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Poetry of the Road
By David Ririe
(From NETWORK, the family newsletter,
volume 3, October 1997)

Traveling to many countries
Of this grand enormous earth
Has brought me many thrills and chills
And also fears and mirth.

Taxis, cabs and pick-up trucks
Speeding from town to farm
Enabled me to do my work,
Albeit with alarm.

Narrow escapes have been my lot
Causing prayers to be sincere
Engendered partly by my faith
But mostly out of fear.

After motoring to and fro
And praying to survive
I thank my guardian angel
Each day that I'm alive.

And now I write some ditties
In an attempt at poetry
About roadside observations
As such occurred to me:


Germany is a serious place
With roads of grand design,
Made for the speeding super race
In cars they hold divine.

If, as you drive the autobahn
A light flashes from behind,
You'd better hit the slow lane
For to move you over it was shined.

Those autobahns are famous
For rapid bus and motorcar,
Proving to the super race
'Uber alles" that we are.

But when you're going up a hill
And a truck is crawling slow,
Move over quickly and overtake
That truck's in compound low.

You best pay sharp attention
To each and every roadway sign,
Or an on the spot policeman
Will give to you a fine.


We traveled once to Sweden
To buy a family car,
And in our dark green Volvo
Drove to sites both near and far.

But every time it rained on us
That car sputtered to a stop
No one could isolate the trouble
As a car, it was a flop.

Whoever claimed that foreign cars
Are better than our union made
Never ever owned a lemon
Like that pride of foreign trade.

Then to us occurred good fortune
It was smashed from front to rear
By a heavily laden dump truck,
And we shed not a single tear.

Looking at the sorry sight
Of dented steel and chrome
A brighter thought occurred to us
"We won't have to ship it home."

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