Two on the left and one on the right,
a three-eyed monster splits the night.
An aired-up horn pumps out a blare,
adrenaline notes of ‘I don’t share’.
Bikers, walkers, and leaping deer
all ditch the road in mortal fear.
The high beam glare distracts and blinds,
then drifts across the center line.
One chilling glimpse of empty space,
a vacant cab without a face.
A squealing lurch and fishtail swerve
brings near-miss fear and frazzled nerves.
A slower pace means all-night slog,
but safer passage through the fog.
Hug the shoulder with room to spare,
each passing car another scare.
Perhaps the truck's some random guy,
tension eases as miles go by.
But coming out from round the bend,
that self-same truck appears again.
An angry growl as it charges fast,
then shrieking steel and breaking glass.
Rumbling, roaring four-wheel drive,
if you cross its path you won’t survive.
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