Art : My Name Is Mustang.

First, I was a horse, proud, fierce, untamed. testing the texture of one continent, competing with the winds and tornadoes to achieve the ultimate granular vortex, testing the manhood of the Cheyenne, twisting the blistering ropes of the Sioux, defying the white man with bared, scornful teeth and a rusty, booming cloud of contempt, rearing up disdainful hoofs at his challenge of a lumbering smoking iron donkey trapped on it's molded rails. Then, I was a plane, lithe, lightweight, defined. with a body DaVinci once dreamed of and a clear canopy of tense eyes and sweaty, twitching fingers on the throttle. Soaring high over another continent, beaten down by polished black boots. The elegant, rich roar of Rolls Royce, The searing steel death of Browning, clamping together to mete out justice and liberty, higher and faster than any swastika propellers. Then I was a car, with clean lines and a pure promise, born of optimism and innovation, first brought forth under a steel sphere of the world. My lean, youthful frame and bristling energy beckoned to the untamed young, bringing elation and the whoops of warriors as they pony up precious pennies to slip easily into my low slung, leather saddle and pick their soundtrack and flick my fresh rubber hooves across the next horizon. Their nubile females in splendid mating colors ponytails wagging their eager assent in my ever growling breeze as I assault their narrow strips of tar. I have thundered through untrod dust. I have been caught only by men like Remington. I have sailed above exploding black skies and landed farm boys safely to their futures. I have raced through muggy summer nights, blaring out my rebellion to a rock and roll beat. I am freedom in flesh and hooves and wings and guns and canvas tops and pinstripes. I am what Art should be: I am versatile. I speak in a thousand ways in a thousand forms. I please the eye and thrill the soul. I am ..ME.