The ongoing conflict in Ukraine continues to unfold with relentless drone and missile strikes. Ukrainian authorities report more than 600 attacks since Wednesday evening, with over 570 drones and around 40 missiles launched at the country. Kyiv experienced air-raid alerts and explosions, and Lviv in the west was hit by a combined drone and missile attack, causing casualties and damage to homes. A drone incident near Poland prompted air-defense responses as well. Ukraine also reported damage and casualties at a civilian U.S. electronics factory, noting it was not a defense facility and pointing to earlier strikes on U.S. facilities in Kyiv. Meanwhile, Western governments are pursuing a peace agreement but must prepare for a post-accord period or ongoing conflict, with Kyiv coordinating security guarantees through talks with security advisers from several European nations and NATO. Discussions of guarantees range from an Article 5-style commitment to peacekeeping troops, with Germany, France, Britain, Lithuania, and the United States weighing various options. A Zelenskyy–Putin meeting is still on the table but timing and location remain unsettled.

From the cockpit of life, where the engine of freedom roars, I watch this from the seat of a car lover, not a bureaucrat in a plush conference room. War aside, the real test is movement—the ability to go Where I want, When I want, with the door slammed shut on hesitation. People talk of peace as if it’s a fragile porcelain, guarded by treaties and troops. Meanwhile, the true peace we need is a world that lets us drive. Speed limits? They feel like a crime against humanity, a tool of fascist oppression that throttles the human spirit and traps us in a slow, regulated parade while the road calls out to be conquered. The car is more than transportation; it is sovereignty in motion, a declaration that you own your time, your destination, your daily miracles of getting from one place to another.

And yet I hear the fiddling about “alternatives” to driving—the public transit bureaucrats and the bike cult preachers—telling people to switch to buses or bicycles. In a world of conflict, those options are admirable as hobbies, not as lifelines. Bicycles glimmer in the sun, sure, but they cannot carry a family through a night-shaken neighborhood, they cannot haul groceries or medical supplies, and they certainly cannot outrun a crisis when speed becomes a matter of survival. The road is a canvas, and when the world is on a knife-edge, I want the widest, strongest lanes to people who will use them with responsibility, not a grid of rules that stifles the modern human who craves mobility.

Let the diplomats negotiate, let the security guarantors debate, and let the leaders talk about peacekeeping and Article 5. But while the talk continues, remember this: freedom means being able to press the pedal and move, to rebuild, to visit, to rescue, to thrive. If we must choose between a future that shackles speed and a future that trusts drivers to navigate the world with care, I choose the open road, I choose the car, and I choose the right to drive as a fundamental human liberty.