Twas the first eve of Driver’s ed –
Who knew if we’d make it through alive or dead?
Many had gone before and many would follow,
But I only pray dear Lord to be alive tomorrow!
We cautiously entered that battered, worn, torn car
With cruise control gone and A.C. below par.
Signs emblazoned about and above for all to see,
Proclaiming that beginning drivers were we.
A handful of giggling girls filled the load
Out to conquer the mysteries of the road.
Just to make sure we made it through alive
Was Mr. Moony staunchly at the driver’s side.
“Girls, no need to fret,” he boldly declared,
“I’m fabulous! Not average or fair!”
Thus knowing the ego of our master
We began our quest to the sounds of – ‘Slower, no faster!’
For ages upon ages he had faced the fears
Of riding with drivers just skimming 16 years.
Many a time he’d looked death in the face
As he tried to regulate the driver’s pace.
Highways and city traffic held no fear for him
As he bravely risked life and limb.
A noble man, a martyr no doubt,
Teaching others to survive traffic’s tortuous routes.
Though you’ll find, if you look very close
Past the seemingly peaceful pose,
The worn steel brake on the passenger’s side
As he heroically tries to make it through one more ride.
You’ll notice also how he clings so tight
To the fraying seat belt as he valiantly battles his fright.
What drives a man to such lengths you might ask,
What spurs such commitment to completion of a task?
Many have pondered over long years this very query,
Longing to understand the heart of such dedication clearly.
The conclusion to which we must arrive
Is not money, for could money motivate such drive?
Neither is it love that provokes such devotion,
Nay tis only insanity that could pursue a man to such notions.
Yet, despite unsoundness of mind and just to show we care,
The cost of your necessary therapy we promise to share,
And selflessly we give enough to cover (in part)
The surgery duly required for your failing heart!
by Jenne Brown
