"We going riding on the ___ of love in my pink Cadillac" (Aretha Franklin lyric)

Usage examples of freeway.

Ann they had both been aboad a bus cruising at eighteen miles an hour along the sixty-lane freeway that ran from Bear Canyon to Pasadena, near the middle of Los Angeles.

Because of peole dropping bowling balls onto freeways, we have fences anclosing highway overpasses.

In 1976, a tank truck went off an elevated freeway, exploded and released 19 tons of anhydrous ammonia, killing seven people.

It was on Drumm Street, within pitching distance of the Hyatt Regency and the moribund Embarcadero Freeway, and I had been occupying it just about as long as I had known Kerry.

Leggy girls in skimpy tops and satin shorts that covered a tenth of their gluteal regions skated by, transforming the walkways between the palms into fleshy freeways.

They dodged traffic and ran along the top of a gridlocked line of car roofs before turning off the freeway.

For while a good Angeleno would have found a straight and increasingly empty freeway through a neato landscape an exemplary invitation, to Amanda the pilgrim it seemed that the engineers who had built it had conceded little more to the mighty Sierras, as their roadway rose up into them than the Romans punching their tunnels by brute force through the Alps.

There are no back roads to take, no freeways to hop, nothing but nature, cheese shops, and oompah bands.

Freeway north to Echo Park Road and then took that north again toward the hillside neighborhood where Raynard Waits had been arrested.

I had to ride my bike to and from their goddamn plant, way up north in the high-chemical-crime district and reachable only by riding on the shoulder of some major freeways.

People in bright clothing, agile as the siamang of near Sumatra, sped overhead along freeways and ropeways, arms and hands modified for brachiation.

The freeway at rush hour was an old friend newly revisited, harbinger of normalcy, a great rough pet sucking in the sharp odor of unleaded gas and exhaling huge gouts of smog.

There were the freeways and autostradas and autobahns, strung in an all-enclosing net across the faces of the continents.

But having been put up back during an era of overdesign, it proved to be sturdier than it looked, with its old stucco eaten at to reveal generations of paint jobs in different beach-town pastels, corroded by salt and petrochemical fogs that flowed in the summers onshore up the sand slopes, on up past Sepulveda, often across the then undeveloped fields, to wrap the San Diego Freeway too.

I drive from rural Selma to Fresno each morning on a congested freeway, fighting traffic with thousands of young Hispanic girls in new Hondas, on their way from rural towns like Fowler, Parlier and Woodlake to jobs in health care, law, government and education in Fresno.