Crash A Thousand More

Intro

Yo…

This one’s for Robert John “Bobby Chubby” Lambert…

The man who watched me destroy half the cars in Western PA

and still checked my pulse before he checked the damage.

Happy birthday, brother.

Verse

Did you really think I forgot your birthday?

Nah, man — I was just waitin’ for the perfect day

to remind you I crashed EVERYTHING you ever loved

and somehow… you STILL loved me anyway.

First there was that car in Coeur d'Alene —

You bought it, I borrowed it… well, stole it —

Then hugged a telephone pole head-on,

left my skull sittin’ in the windshield like “inspect this.”

You didn’t yell.

Didn’t cuss.

Didn’t swing.

Just checked if I was alive —

Paramedic-in-training, number 45, Northgate Plains linebacker

already savin’ lives

’cause I kept tryin’ to end mine by hittin’ stationary objects.

Jimmy’s car? Flipped it.

Paul’s car? “Paul, wake up — State Police got your whip.”

“What?! How’d it get up on 79?”

“I stole it, Paul. Tell ’em it wasn’t me.”

(But it definitely was me.)

Ran one straight into an embankment at Moraine State Park,

drinkin’ and drivin’ like two idiots in the dark —

A lesson learned the hard way:

DON’T DRINK AND DRIVE.

Let MY stupid be your safety briefing.

Chorus

🎸 Yeehaw slide guitar 🎸

Oh Bobby, Bobby Chubby,

I tore up every car you ever had,

But you still loved me like a brother,

Even when the damage was bad.

From the K-car in the driveway

to outrunnin’ Howie in Bellevue,

Happy birthday, Bobby…

I’d crash a thousand more for you.

(But I won’t. ’Cause I grew up. Kind of.)

Verse

Then came Joy — cowgirl boots and a Florida breeze,

loaded up the horses, rode off like a country dream.

Life Flight had you landing birds on highways,

doing LZs like it was easy.

You’ve always been that dude —

quiet hero, never braggin’, always movin’.

Meanwhile, I’m in the background

burnin’ Jimmy’s car

losin’ Paul’s

totally not touching Buddy’s Trans Am (’cause that thing was sacred).

But I did throw a part off it down Nobleside… allegedly.

Milk duds and BBQ —

I don’t know why, but it fits you.

Somehow it just sounds like home.

Outro

So here’s to you, Bobby —

the brother who patched me up,

laughed at my dumb mistakes,

and lived enough life for ten men.

I don’t know how old you are,

don’t care,

don’t need to —

you’re younger than me and always cooler than me.

Happy birthday,

from your idiot brother

who crashed your cars,

wrecked your peace,

and still loves you more than any K-car ever deserved.

See you when I see you.

Milk duds and BBQ.

I’m out.