Good sir,
Thy present lanterns upon thy carriage do cast a light sufficient, I grant thee, for the common folk and plough-tilling peasants who wander muddy lanes by moon’s mercy. Yet, when set beside the wondrous, self-turning beacons of my noble Ford F-150 — lamps that bend as a falcon in flight and follow the road as though guided by Providence — thine own appear but humble candles in a cottage window.
They serve, aye… but only for men of lesser station.
Such illumination be not fitting for one of my standing, who rideth with vision clear round every curve whilst lesser lights grope blindly in the dark.
Man, ChatGPT can be cruel, lol.