My father loved to drive a car
On holiday in Ireland
Sunny day and window down
Elbow on the ledge
Cigarette and Irish breeze
I can see him yet
But this was leisure driving
And even when at home
He never drove at speed
He liked to come on home
He taught my brother how to drive
Let them go he said
When others on the road
Went zooming on ahead
Take your time and do things right
My dad’s philosophy
He’d seen the world and what it’s like
The quiet life for me
We make a car crash of our lives
When speed becomes our god
We think we are invincible
Our will the only rod
But cars they isolate us
A moving noisy box
Escape into the open air
Take off your shoes and socks
I remember times in Ireland
When we were in a car
And on the road a donkey and cart
Not going very far
But from the moving limousine
The sense came over me
I’d rather be with the donkey
And the sense of being free
Brian Fahy
15 July 2022
+ The struggles of Tiger Woods on the golf course of St Andrews as he tries to make a good score remind us of how his life fell apart and of the car crash that nearly killed him.
Erris Poetry 