Flying is nice, and boats might suffice, but there's one mode of travel preferred,
It's driving a car to places afar, going slow so that nothing is blurred.
Enjoying the scenery, the sky and the greenery, turning and twisting my way,
Through back roads less traveled, some paved and some graveled, is how I enjoy my foray.
It's never been boring, this method of touring, and can lead to the ultimate thrill.
Not driving through showers or smelling the flowers, but finding that special roadkill.
It doesn't take power; 30 miles per hour, is usually about the right trend,
Scan with your eyes for that smelly surprise, that has met its unfortunate end.
And your sense of smell will often foretell, of that smashed little fur-ball of which
Will brighten your day; perhaps it will lay on the asphalt or off in the ditch.
The excitement will mount, as you tally and count, the numbers of critters you've viewed.
That a previous truck has so squarely struck, where the blood and the gore has been spewed.
Frogs and toads may litter the roads; stopping at each is insane,
It's all up to you, to sort this thing through, not to waste time on the mundane.
The really nice prize (at least in my eyes), is the tastefully laid out piece of art,
That has baked in the sun, 'til you know it's the one which will cause your nostrils to smart.
To provide the detail, some stomachs might fail, I'll not chronicle each wondrous mile.
Stay ever alert on the pavement and dirt, and enjoy yourself all the while.
Jack
