🖋️ Beneath Shifting Skies

I may be from the old driving school, But driving my Aerostar? Now that’s real cool. I’m an uncommon man, Who learned to drive an old Chevy van— But this artificial intelligence? I swear, it’s getting out of hand. “Honey, let me take you for a ride,” My wife said, beaming with pride. I hesitated, but swallowed my doubt, Then strapped in tight—no easy way out. It took a while to get things rolling, Buttons flashing, dashboards scrolling. She couldn’t turn left, not without a beep, Couldn’t change lanes if she dared to leap. Eyes off the road? That car would scream! Smart ride? More like a bossy machine. I don’t think my wife was driving that car— No, that AI had taken control. Keeping us locked in its digital code, That so-called “smart ride” was downright bizarre. As I wiped the sweat from my brow, I said, “Honey, take me home—right now. I don’t mean to hurt your pride, But I’ve had enough of this tech-run ride.” I have a smart wife, she drives a smart car, But I’ll stick to my Aerostar. It’s amusing, but more than bizarre— Does she really think she was driving that car?