Saturday morning tunes: Freeways, cars, and trucks

My singing voice is so-so -- by itself it's on key but otherwise fairly nondescript. I'm usually at my best, such as it is, either when I'm harmonizing, or when I'm mimicking someone with a distinctive style, say, a Jeremy Brett or a Janis Joplin. Mainly, I have to rely on someone else's sense of phrasing if I'm going to get through it. But sometimes . . . every now and then . . . I find myself wondering where I'd be today if my voice were as soulfully, heroically ruined as Tom Waits' voice is:

Well, I suppose I'd be heading home in an old Caddy, counting on the first light of dawn to burn away whatever regrets were clinging to me like stale cigarette smoke.

At least that's my guess.