The only way to go is up. There’s madness down below. Madness and selfishness.
There are drivers who think that lane they’re in is their birthright, who think the Queen gave it to them, who think the masses must make room, move aside, fall behind and worship. “Worship me because I drive a ____________ .” (Fill in the blank with whatever they think is a prestigious machine.)
Down there is the chaos of those who think laws are fantastic when everyone else is obeying them. Down there is the chaos of anger fueled by exhaust and propelled by burnt rubber, frustrated by tint and confounded by chrome.
Let the dungeon dwellers live in their own mess. Let them have their well-earned turmoil. You can go farther faster by flying out of the bottom like a nymph off a pond.
Travel beyond the lowest levels. Travel up and find the peace birds have always known.