What is it that makes us travel fast Always intent on the destination Never taking the time to stop For needless or even needed Breaks, pauses, reflective moments And really there is no sound excuse Freeways have rest stops there to use And when I need to rest I have no trouble pulling in I’ve done it on I-90 in the States I’ve done it on 401 passed Ontario gates I’ve done it on a prairie route I’ve done it by small towns too I have traveled a thousand roads I’m sure Always headed for somewhere else Not always without time to spare Not always with a deadline there And yet I can hardly think of once When I simply turned off the path To visit someone or some place And show a little bit of grace To those who were along the way I missed a chance when I was young To see a wise but elderly soul Because I felt I had to get To the next place upon my list It happened again before school was done And then it seemed to simply become The norm, the usual, the way to travel In looking back it is hard to count The people who were dear to me Yet not seemingly dear enough To turn the car, to slow the pace I can think of times on late night drives Or when the sun was barely up That it seemed so easy to simply say They will be asleep upon the hay Sometimes it was a relative long lost But more often it was a special friend One whom no doubt I thought Would like to see me and to visit To reminisce about some time Now lost in my own memory bank Like investments long since put aside In some old drawer or safety box These people sat as past I sped Alone at home or even at their work Even when I said I’d come next time I really knew it would not be I don’t read obituaries very much They only remind me that I double-clutched And couldn’t stop and turn within Worried my travel clock would unwind And now they’re gone To their reward I think And I still sail past their homes With nary a wandering blink Still trying to reach some destined shore As if the ferry only runs one time more And missing all the good thoughts And the special vibes That those people would have shared And in the hectic drive downwind I always arrive a way too soone And sit and ponder While I await The timing of the arrival goal The irony is that in days of yore When trains were at the fore There was an excuse for going past It was the engineer that was too fast But as many a song now tells us Trains have left us for the bus So there is really no excuse For to try is only to confuse It happened again not long ago I was even phoned and invited He was a friend, his wife was too But I had stuff to do and say And he could wait one more day Too soon I learned that he did not And now he’s gone without a thought Or even prayer said in his stead The road oft traveled again misled Where did this hurry come like a race Why do I not learn to slow down my pace What final destination now is so dear That I can bypass those right here Perhaps I need to simply say So long, I’m gone But don’t you mind I will think of you When next I stop And wait for the ferry Or maybe it’s a plane It really doesn’t matter much For I am early And have time to think of such g.w.