Myth Autobahn

Welcome to the Autobahn, Where speed's a myth, and hope's a con, They tell you, "Go, let loose, be free!" But joke's on you—it’s irony. "Unlimited speed!" the signs declare, Until you’re stuck in rush-hour snare, A concrete snake that never ends, With traffic jams and twisty bends. Got a Porsche? Well, good for you, But Granny’s Lada’s blocking view, She’s in the fast lane, cool as ice, Doing fifty—oh, ain’t that nice? Hit the gas, you’re feeling brave, But here comes the construction rave, Endless cones, a neon sea, Your dreams of speed? Pure fantasy. And what’s that smell? Oh, take a guess, A burger stand? A hot dog mess? Nope, just fumes from cars that crawl, A gas station’s miles away, if at all. Overhead, a sign so bright, “Autobahn! No speed in sight!” But underneath, in smaller type, “Unless it’s raining, fog, or night.” Finally free! The lanes are clear, You press the pedal, start to cheer, But wait—what’s this? A caravan, Going 90, holding up the plan. And let’s not forget that priceless joy, Of tailgating’s favorite ploy, A BMW inches close, Flashing lights like it's the most. So here’s to speed and open road, To myths and legends we've been sold, The Autobahn, where fast is slow, And every trip’s a sitcom show. In the end, what’s left to say? The Autobahn’s just life’s delay, Where freedom’s just a fleeting dream, And traffic jams reign supreme.