Driving from the rear

So vain it is with all intention, driving from the rear.
To hang all over, fear and worry  that which disapears. 
Hold a glimps of rolling wake, of fumes and rubber crease. 
To watch the the hundred miles wind, to watch them swift decrease. 
Driving from the rear to see the wake, of every last mistake.
Every bump and daring curve, and every turn you didn’t take.
Turns that hundred miles past, you wish you would have steered. 
Though the moment now is gone, that route has disappeared. 
The roads and signs that lie ahead are all but mystery. 
For instead you glimpse behind and wallow history. 
Driving forth is all adventure, a challenge to be met. 
Though no use is an adventure clouded in regret.