We can all relate to traffic being a rat race. I have always dreaded big city interstates.
One wrong move and you are stuck there for hours. And that’s if you are lucky.
Something about this write makes me wonder if my boys ever studied me in traffic when they were younger.
I enjoyed the read.

Brilliantly penned, Thomas. Excellent write, you’re such a natural storyteller and are able with your amazing imagery to make me feel like I’m watching from the backseat my friend. A great read brother, nicely done. Appreciate you.

Damian

That silent observation of internal conversations is such a profound moment. Terrified in the backseat…I often feel that way about life these days. I have a friend whose grandmother used to drive us around in the backseat of her old green paneled station wagon, having full conversations in her head. But her half was audible. We never knew when she was addressing us or them. Took me back to those rides with this.

This took me back a good few years .. or yonks as we say this side of the pond .. thanks for the ride Thomas .. Neville

I couldn’t help but think of an old neighbor I had when I was young. He would drive me and his son and daughter to school up the street. Thank God it wasn’t far. He would talk as though we weren’t there and every once in a while hit the brake when someone pulled up to the corner of a street waiting to pull out. I couldn’t wait to get out. 🙂 Great story, Thomas.

Thanks. I appreciate it.

What a grand and deeply emotional memory of your Dad at the wheel with all his inner angst haunting him while you his passengers held on for dear life. Truly a great ride of a freeway poem that made for an exhilarating read. Enjoyed this journey through time and the highway. You painted an exquisite portrait of your Dad here my friend.

John

Thank you. Much appreciated.

Passionately penned, Amethyste. A very seductive interaction indeed. Appreciate you.

Damian

Okay, mon frere, my competitor, I see you have entered this Morning Coffee contest. Yours is lovely, then brutal, and in the end, bleak. Mine is cute, brutal, and in the end, funny. But mine has a secret ingredient: Coffee. Oh, I know, the rules say coffee OR tea are the liquids we honor — but MINE is COFFEE, and COFFEE is in the name of the contest, so I WIN! >THWEETT< (THAT'S A CARTOON inspired spitting action) So I win! hahahaHA! (that's a sarcastic laugh) Beside, Mine is about a cat and no one can tell a cat it's a loser and not be despised the rest of his life. Of course you can quit now (he said slyly) and save yourself the embarrassment of losing to a cat! (notice how I made the cat both powerful AND weak! How clever! Bonus points! Nice work though, BDB(P)

Powerfully penned, Peter. Excellent write my friend. Nicely done. Appreciate you.

Damian

Passionately penned, Brenda. Amazing write my friend. I saw Rob Zombie with Fear Factory in concert in 1998. Great show. Appreciate you.

This is sweat and stage-light devotion—desire roaring through amplifiers and shaking your ribs.
You kneel to the myth but keep your edge; the hunger is raw, but the awe is real.