Roadtrip

Are we there yet?


I just so love being in the car.
Houston now seems very far.
We’ve been there other times before.
Each time it’s south-er even more.
I really wish you’d let me drive.
I can’t deal with all this right-lane jive.
My eyelids are about to drop.
I think I need a Buc-ee’s stop.
The GPS says two hours to go.
That I didn’t need to know.

Are we there yet?

Plano at Rush Hour

He thinks that no-one will complain,
As he exits from the far left lane.

Kill me.
Kill me now.

She is like a pig in clover,
As she slides her three lanes over.

Kill me.
Kill me now.

He thinks he may have seen a cop.
So, let’s have all on Central stop.

Kill me.
Kill me now.

Some of the smartest people alive,
But none of them know how to drive.

Kill me.
Kill me now.

I-635 Blues

Slide on over, baby.
Slide on over slow.
We’re about to miss our exit.
I don’t know where to go.

Move on over, baby.
Move on over fast.
There’s a tanker truck a comin’
I’m fixin’ to get passed.

Drive on over, baby.
Drive on to this song.
I’ve never seen such traffic.
It’s rush hour all day long.

Roll on over, baby.
You know my heart’s on fire.
There’s a pothole in the roadway,
And I’m about to lose a tire.

Glide on over, baby.
Glide on ’til you see.
There’s a thousand cars around here,
They’re all aiming straight at me.

Speed on over, baby.
Speed up as you drive.
I saw a sign back over,
That says go sixty-five.

Look on over, baby.
Look across your dash.
There’s a bunch of angry people.
They must have had a crash.

Slide on over, baby.
Slide on to arrive.
By the time they finish building,
I’ll be too old to drive.

Rush Hour

Why am I still at work?
I should be home.
I’m such a jerk. 

There’s one good way 
From there to here,
It’s being rebuilt,
Over four long years.

So, traffic keeps me working late,
I have a lot upon my plate. 
Still, I’d rather be with family,
But traffic keeps me in agony.

It’s a hot, dry day in Dallas town.
The roads are straight all around.
Yet, cars crash and many swerved,
I’m glad the streets aren’t really curved.

 

Monday

Monday.
It is a curse.
Yet, today, just Monday wasn’t good enough.

Rain.
It is a blessing.
Unless it’s in the city, during rush hour.

Traffic.
It is beyond a curse.
Especially in the rain, in a construction zone.

So, I started the week late.
And cranky.
(Some would say “cranky” was a given.)

Can’t we get Monday outlawed?
Or moved to the weekend?