Driving, to some, is a pleasurable chore.
To me, it's a pain in the neck.
Constantly taxing the mental capacity
As down the highway we trek.
Plummeting forward from every direction
To where the paths intersect;
Watching the signs and the bright signals flashing;
Each meant to guide and direct.
Struggling, straining, hoping we've made
The right turns as we try to connect.
Praying to make our intended arrival
Without getting into a wreck.
Yes, driving for some is a pastime of pleasure;
A theory I firmly reject.
But for getting around from point" "a" to
point "b",
It's the method I always select.
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