She didn't ask, she just opened up the door
Feet on the dash like she'd ridden there before
First thing she did was turn my station off the news
Three weeks in I quit switching it — let her choose
Wasn't a plan, wasn't a word about it
Some seats just don't feel right without somebody in it
All summer long she had the passenger side
Window cracked, one knee up, nowhere we had to be by
She picked the exits, picked the songs, picked the long way home
All summer long — and I never once drove alone
Left a pair of flip-flops underneath the seat
Two-cream gas-station coffee, no receipt
Learned the back roads quicker than the map could say
Knew which gear I'd grind before I gave it away
Wasn't a plan, wasn't a word about it
Some seats just don't feel right without somebody in it
All summer long she had the passenger side
Window cracked, one knee up, nowhere we had to be by
She picked the exits, picked the songs, picked the long way home
All summer long — and I never once drove alone
Labor Day I cleaned it out — found the flip-flop she'd lost
Set it in the glovebox, never told her what it cost
Some things you don't say out loud at a stoplight in the heat —
So I left the station where she had it. And I left her the seat.
All summer long she had the passenger side
Window cracked, one knee up, nowhere we had to be by
She picked the exits, picked the songs, picked the long way home
All summer long — and I never once drove alone