On the Road

When I was younger my father and I would drive all over South Africa in his Isuzu.

Bumping along the empty road
Potholes like scars on a pockmarked cheek.
The smell of dust and hot pleather hangs in the air
In our single cab bakkie with the bench seat.

Laughing about nothing and everything at once
Like teenage girls,
Giggling about our faraway cares.
Gossiping like bored ou tannies,
Or just sitting together in tranquil silence
Enjoying eachothers company.

We're on our way to the crocodile farm,
Or Sodwana Bay to drift along the rainbow coloured streams.
Or St. Lucia for the endless pure white stretches of sand
And memories of ashes scattered in the wind.
It doesn't matter where we go,
This is the part I love.

AC/DC and Motorhead
Telling stories of when you were young.
Stopping for coke and a garage pie.

This is the part I love.

Author's Note

This is really close to my heart and I'd love to refine it till its perfect. All opinions welcome. Be brutal but be honest.