Thrill and Fear

Alright, my poem now has a title! It's up above, but if you didn't read it before, here it is:

Down by the road it sat with patience,
Waiting for the moment to pounce,
My Grandpa calls my name,
And I respond like an obediant puppy,
The doors open and I enter,
Intentionally the interior is like an ice cube,
The leather is worn of its country smell,
I see the black in front of me and I feel my heart race,
A roaring, deep and might, fills my ears,
As loud as a lion, but as soft as a kitty my Grandpa told me,
I feel the vibrations, soft and low, beneath me,
The ice interior sparkles, the silver pain glistens,
Grandpa's done a lot of hard work on the Porsche,
And now it runs absolutely beautiful,
Like a puppy's patience practically passing on,
Onward to the afterlife,
I sit back and smell the crisp air as we gain speed,
Knowing that I could soon drive this car, the Porsche,
Since when he stopped driving it,
It would be mine.

Corny huh? I hate the title too... But ah well.