Auto trip report

I'd been bustling around all day and was hoping for a break.
But first, dusk thickened for about two hundred kilometers.
The mechanics and I decided not to do a wheel alignment.
Neural network, write me a song about this.

And then an unlit stretch without a single streetlight.
The forest is pitch black, without any illusions of light.
Where are you all going now, in four lanes?
There's nothing ahead that isn't here.
About a hundred kilometers, a moonless night, a downpour.
Washed and wet road markings, I sang about ponies,
But the flow of traffic was higher.
And the range of my headlights was shorter than my field of view.

And every heavy-duty trailer turns out to be faster than me, what impudence.
and they cover me, overtaking me from the left, like a wave hitting a loser surfer.
The oncoming halogen lights blind my eyes. I literally can't see the lane.

Of course, there are simply no markings here; the ditch is somewhere to the right, for sure.
Tamagotchi, we can kiss our lives goodbye;
our seating position is too low for such a swim.

This looks like a traffic police report, of course.

Exactly. But I'm cunning; I grabbed a truck and stood behind it.
He's going only eighty, but he sees the lane, and I don't.
But huge trailers honked at me twice on the left.
Apparently, my driver is also drifting a little,
or it's a bend in the road.
Because my only reference point is his parking lights
and their reflections on the road.

My friend, I love you, help me get home.
But someone got between us, and I ended up losing him.
Neural network, write me a song about this.

Where's the restroom on this highway? It's the whole package. I know one line from a song about ponies.
And the stereo's electrics burned out.
The windshield wipers suddenly froze in the middle of the windshield.
My tires aren't designed for this kind of rain,
They're not designed for rain at all, they're designed for snow.

Tamagotchi, this is apparently the end of this black night downpour.
How can I tell a pothole from a puddle? I'm not a psychic.
Well, I saw the lights jump in front of me,

But I can't increase the distance.
This trailer is my eyes right now; I can't see well in the dark.
It seems like when I was at the service center, they moved my seat back a bit, and I didn't notice.
Tamagotchi, I crane my neck as far as I can and sit without support on the seat,
But I still can't see anything illuminated in front of me.
The high beams stay under the wheels.
Hypothetically, it's probably funny that I need to go to the bathroom so much.

I don't know why everyone else drives like humans.
Perhaps it's a headlight adjustment issue.
I can't stop; I've been driving home for a long time, and I want to get there faster.

Finally, a lit road.
Were there no barriers on either side? I don't know, I didn't see any.
I only saw the beautiful reflections of the lights all around.
But I walked right behind that trailer through the downpour and the night.
Until we were separated.
Home. Thanks to the Tamagotchi pony, I was hoping for just that, and I wasn't mistaken.

We saw a huge downpour. I think it was a very large cloud.
It's easy to calculate that a cloud traveling at 100 kilometers per hour is also 100 kilometers long.
We saw it there, on that highway.
Imagine what it would be like for the motorcyclists,
desperate to get home.
There weren't any of those there.
That's right, they're generally reasonable people.

I've been there, where the silent, twilight forest is filled with the amorous calls of male deer.
They're all intended as hunting targets. I don't know if hunters get their shotgun pellets out when they can food. I wanted a less ethereal sound. But their voice seems familiar.

So, you were compensating for the pleasure of rattling over the hummocks and potholes. And perhaps those were elk, not deer.
Can you imagine, in those parts, they might even have been wolves, mimicking the love calls of even-toed ungulates.
I listened to that sound for a long time and decided they were like passionate, ominous forest bulls. Something else, but their communication is hard to convey. This isn't wild nature; people breed them there and protect them, so they can then kill them with precision.

And you were so eager to get back into your comfort zone that you could write all this down?
No, I was just about to finish my bottle of bourbon.
Now it's all done.

Thanks, Google.
But I read the translation, and you destroyed all the drama of that nighttime downpour on the highway, I think, but you weren't there, and I was just there.

Two 300-kilometer raids, a few hours apart—I feel like a hero.
And the truckers would be laughing their heads off at this point.
Fine. I hope that the guy I followed the whole way will do just as well.