Long Road

Full throttle on a road with no map. He never asked how long or how high, he just pointed forward and flew through the empty desert and the sleeping town. They told him to pace himself or burn out; he answered that maybe he would, but he would make it last. There is nothing wrong with those who park and rest, but he is built for the test. The road throws rocks, rain and night, and he keeps both hands steady. Some taste the finish; he tastes the drive. The journey is the trophy. The road does not end, and neither does he.