Living Life Large

I can’t see a damn thing; it’s that time of night The road is too dim, but the sunset’s too bright. I’m driving by sounds, yes, I’m driving by feel. In a couple of minutes, guess I’ll grab the wheel. The miles sure get harder when you’re falling asleep, When you’re scratching your head to stir up those sheep. It’s hard to make progress across this great land Unless you got caffeine; big gulp in your hand The thump of reflectors keeps me on the road, But my tires are thin, and they just might explode. Those little cut ridges: they’re really a gift; They let a guy know when he’s starting to drift. ‘Cuz when you veer on them, the tires will sing. If you’re deaf as a post, though, they don’t do a thing. Oh, I’m reading poetry, driving my truck. If I had a Tesla, I’d have better luck. But I’ve got an old truck, it can’t drive itself. But think what I saved; I’m the picture of wealth. Yes, I love my pickup, it’s got hand crank windows. No USBs here, but I’ve got radio. No, in fact, it’s not fancy, not fancy at all. It’s true that it’s old, but it’s for the long haul. An 8 foot long bed, and those nice vinyl seats. Did I mention those windows that make it complete? The remote locking door locks (boy, I really splurged!) Honk the horn at a distance when I get the urge. Got this big diesel engine, goes crawling along, And a fancy transmission that I got for a song. It’s even got FM for hearing the notes, And something called AM for talk radio goats. With Rush from the archives, I’m driving, in charge. If I had a guitar, I’d be living life large.