Thomas trundled onwards. He liked this patrol route, it had some of the last surviving trees amid grey steel. He liked them better than the receding shorelines on Route C.
It almost distracted him from the questions that ate away at him lately: What was his purpose? Why do this rut day in and day out? Surely there must be something greater to which he could aspire?
He resolved to, on his return, ask his other tank brethren what they thought.