Thanks for your comments on lane positioning,

Thanks for fiddling with the air conditioning,

And for eyeing the speedo with clear suspicion,

And for waving on walkers, granting your permission,

Thanks for your opinion on my every decision,

Two miles in and my stress level’s risen,

You have a wealth of knowledge and advice to share,

You’re the Backseat Driver Extraordinaire.

I love the way you over-participate,

Reminding me when to brake and indicate,

Announcing directions blow-by-blow,

Changing the channel on the radio,

Pointing at cyclists with unwarranted alarm,

I don’t know how I’m staying so calm,

You drag me down but I’m a survivor,

You’re a top-of-the-range Backseat Driver.

‘It’s 20 here, so Watch Your Speed’,

Thanks BSD that’s what I need,

Keep adjusting those mirrors – it’s a great distraction,

Constant advice and dramatic reactions,

I don’t know how I managed without,

Next time I drive I’ll give you a shout,

You’re my running commentary provider,

You’re a fuel-injected Backseat Driver.

And thanks for announcing, ‘We’re All Clear!’,

I love the way you interfere,

‘You’re Good To Go’ and ‘Just Go Steady’,

BSD top tips already,

Thanks for tweaking my controls,

Five miles in and you’re on a roll,

Sharp breath intakes at lights and corners,

You’re the best in class, a top performer.

I’ll never get over just how quickly

Your mouth accelerates from nought to sixty,

The journey’s done and I’ve paid scant heed

To your warnings given at increasing speed,

You’re a souped-up banger, a turbo-charged guest,

A motormouthed accomplice and professional pest,

You’re a 2-litre, 6-speed shotgun rider,

Thanks for being my Backseat Driver.