What loses its head in the morning but gets it back at night?

I can be cracked, Made, told, and played. But if you don’t get me, You might look dismayed.

Perhaps you like me because I connect to stars, or because of my cars. Perhaps you think I stink because I silenced the great bird sound heard from billions of bits. Or because I'm a scent.

Here's a poser for you: What's blue, and looks like a red car?

I can shorten things, literarily. Is that a word, you ask? I’m sure it is, I say, And there I am, at last!