My uncle has a country place, that no one Knows about

He says it used to be a farm, before the Motor Law

Sundays I elude the "Eyes", and hop the Turbine freight

To far outside the Wire, where my white-haired uncle waits



Jump to the ground

As the Turbo slows to cross the borderline

Run like the wind

As excitement shivers up and down my spine

Down in his barn

My uncle preserved for me, an old machine

For fifty-odd years

To keep it as new has been his dearest dream



I strip away the old debris, that hides the shining car

A brilliant red Barchetta, from a better, vanished time

Fire up the willing engine, responding with a roar!

Tires spitting gravel, I commit my weekly crime



Wind in my hair

Shifting and drifting

Mechanical music

Adrenalin surge



Well-weathered leather

Hot metal and oil

The scented country air

Sunlight on chrome

The blur of the landscape

Every nerve aware



Suddenly, ahead of me, across the mountainside

A gleaming alloy air-car shoots towards me, two lanes wide

I spin around with shrieking tires, to run the deadly race

Go screaming through the valley as another joins the chase



Drive like the wind

Straining the limits of machine and man

Laughing out loud

With fear and hope, I've got a desperate plan



At the one-lane bridge

I leave the giants stranded

At the riverside

Race back to the farm

To dream with my uncle

At the fireside



* Inspired by "A Nice Morning Drive", by Richard S. Foster