My Dad Taught Me To Drive Stick Shift

My Dad taught me to drive stick On warm Sunday mornings while Chicago slept Before the church people left and returned On a freeway still under construction Past yellow barricades and Caution signs Recklessly cautious Without benefit of power steering And power brakes We flew past run down homes And new skyscrapers We owned the road The lesson was simple Real drivers drive shift They control the car Balance clutch and gas Life requires our attention It demands our patience We advance slowly and carefully Real drivers drive shift And so we traveled Across a city still lazily stretching Not quite awake Down a freeway under construction On side streets and in parking lots We owned the city