All that foreign oil controlling American soil Look around you, it’s just bound to make you embarrassed Sheiks walkin’ around like kings wearing fancy jewels and nose rings Deciding America’s future from Amsterdam and to Paris And there’s a slow, slow train comin’ up around the bend
“Slow Train” --Bob Dylan
Thirty years after Dylan recorded those words, I’m driving 55 mph down North Long Lake Road, a hilly, curvy road with a really bad surface and two school zones, and there’s a young guy in a big truck right on my tail. When I don’t speed up, he stomps on the gas, roars around me, and disappears in the distance. Less than a minute later, I pull up right behind him where he’s sitting at a dead stop at a red light. He did get there before I did, though. I stop at the hardware store and park between two huge SUVs that dwarf my Ford Escort. They’re both empty, the owners inside the store, and they’re both idling. I pull into the local deli behind a big truck with a plow on the front. The driver hops out and goes inside without turning off the engine. I expect him to make a quick purchase and run right back out, but am surprised to see him seated comfortably at the counter, ordering lunch, his truck rumbling away outside.
