I think for the first time in my life, I noticed the lyrics to "Trampled Under Foot." While Robert Plant says he's talking about love, it seems to me he's talking about cars. Take a look for yourself:
Greased and slicked down fine, groovy leather trim
I like the way you hold the road, mama, it ain't no sin
Trouble-free transmission, puncture will explode
Mama, let me pump your gas, mama, let me do it all
Dig that heavy metal underneath your hood
Baby, I could work all night, believe I've got the perfect tools
A model built for comfort, really built with style
Specialist tradition, mama, let me feast my eyes
Factory air-conditioned, heat begins to rise
Guaranteed to run for hours, mama it's a perfect size
Groovin' on the freeway, gauge is on the red
Gun down on my gasoline, I believe I'm gonna crack a head.
Come to me for service every hundred miles
Baby, let me check your points, fix your overdrive
Fully automatic, comes in any size
Makes me wonder what I did, before we synchronized
Feather-light suspension, coils just couldn't hold
I'm so glad I took a look inside your showroom doors
Oh, I can't stop talkin' about love.
I hate to say it, but those lyrics come from the darkest depths of Mordor. The song still rocks, though.