The Driver’s Seat

I know what to do, when I'm in the driver's seat.

Steering wheel in my hand, gas pedal at my feet.

I turn the key, and hear the hum of the engine's heartbeat.

Pulling out into the lane, 

suddenly I sense a change.

The car swerves, the tires screech.

Red means go, green means stop.

I can't seem to find a parking spot.

There is no brake pedal, losing control.

No point of steering, so I let go.

Only a red brick wall can stop me.