Winding steeply up the range we climb.
Huge trucks are whining, roaring, taking time
To slowly circumnavigate the steep sharp bends
In first or second gear. We watch the road where it descends, And trucks labour even harder to ride down.
Convoy after convoy trails around the curved descent, no time To view the awesome scene spread out below
Of the coastal plain, as slowly screaming down they go, Concentrating on the road, the curves,
The cars behind, ahead, their nerves
Like steel. Truck drivers deserve a medal.
They have the same reserves of courage