First ambitions

Last night I watched my son drive solo for the first time. A kiddie-car at the fair, granted, but a car, none-the-less. And he was doing it, on his own.

Many of the things he’s done for the first time have been things that we’ve been waiting for him to do. Walking, speaking, sleeping through the night (though, fortunately, not necessarily in that order). This driving thing had an extra dimension though – for watching him negotiate the track in a fake electric Ferrari, I was also watching him achieve one of his first ambitions.

At the time it felt like a big moment. In hindsight I realise that it was.

Driving in Italy

The roads may be pockmarked
But most drive like Monza.
Accelerate, break
Take the racing line
Overtake, accelerate some more.

In their hearts all men here are Felipe Massa.
Except the old drivers in their rustic three-wheeled bees that buzz through the back lanes.
Always ensuring they stay
In the middle
And when navigating a roundabout cause others to pray
‘Not my way. Not my way. Not my way.’