The Driver’s Questionnaire For years I’ve been a driver in An aimless sort of way; Somehow I always did get by Without a fine to pay. But when the skies were very blue, And distant mountains showed, I found it very hard to keep My eyes upon the road. And now they bring this questionnaire My motor ease to mar, And you must get the answers right If you would drive a car. I look at it with puzzled brow, For all that I can see Are statements, all of which appear Quite plausible to me. But some of these, they say, are false. (O would that I were rich) For well I know my stupid brain Could never fathom which. I’d hire a driver and could be As happy as before. I’d sit at ease and watch the view, And never worry more. But if to be a driver, I Must tax my brain so far, I really think I shall decide I do not need a car. I’ll build a cabin far away Where I can dream alone— And lie upon some mossy bank Along the San Antone. And listen to the gurgling sound The little ripples make, Or watch the lazy motion of A harmless water snake. And when the spirit moves me, I the lofty peak will climb Away from toil and gas and oil, Oh, such a life for mine! So take away your questionnaire, Your brain-exhausting test; I’ll saddle up the gray and turn My face toward the west. Mabel E. Plaskett.
Mabel Sans Plaskett was born in Coralitas near Ben Lomond in the Santa Cruz Mountain area of California. Her father Edward Robert Sans ran a saw mill near Pacific Valley, along the Nacimiento – Ferguson road to the coast at Highway One. It was there she met Edward Abbott Plaskett, her husband. Mabel wrote about the coast and the pioneers of the 19th and 20th Centuries.