When you see a red 300ZX coming up behind you at a very high speed, please move over.
When I switch on the UEC (prototype) arc-lights, the purpose is to get your attention. Please move over.
When I blow the two air horns, I’m trying to tell you something. Get out of my way. The left lane on the highway is the passing lane. Please let me past.
I’ll slow down if I have to. I’m not a tailgater, but if you stay in front of me for a couple miles, don’t become frightened, annoyed, or suicidal when I pass you on the right. You’ve left me little choice; would you rather I passed on the hard shoulder?
Condemn away. If I’m approaching an intersection at a good clip, I’ll roll off the throttle until I’m satisfied that there’s no cross-traffic and, in particular, that no-one is going to attempt to make a right-turn on red in front of me. You’re welcome to do your F1 impression behind me, if that somehow gives you satisfaction. Just don’t expect me to give a rat’s ass.
To the bitch in the white Mercedes:
That thing I was doing? It’s called merging. When two lanes of highway traffic have to turn into one lane, it helps if everyone lets someone in. We’re all stopped cold because no one wants to give an inch, so if I let one person in, and you let one person in, and everyone did that, traffic would actually move. But nooooo, you can’t give up that one car-length, so you decided you’d pass me, on the right, in the shoulder. Brilliant move, but not gonna happen, because I am still in front of you, and you’re not going to get around me.
Enjoy being stuck in the shoulder, you twit? Good. Fuck you very much for not understanding the concept of merging. Considering how far over the speed limit you promptly accelerated to after the bottle neck (with children in the car), I am wishing upon you a healthy-sized speeding ticket.
I’m glad you came along, I dedicate this song.
To the people who design highways:
Whose brilliant idea was it to design the highway so that an onramp empties into an off-ramp? I can see this is Podunktown, USA, maybe, but on a highway as busy as the ones around here, it’s just ridiculous. And to all the people who won’t let me merge off of the abomination, fuck you too, because you can clearly see where the signs say “RIGHT LANE EXIT ONLY”, you can see that my turn-signal is on, you can see that I’m trying to position myself into a spot. That doesn’t mean that you, who were previously right behind me and to my left, should speed up so that you’re right next to me.
And when I finally have to floor it move in front of you (because in the karmic justice of the world, you have an asshole right on your bumper) I swear nothing pisses me off more than when you drop 10 mph from your speed. Makes me think you were doing it on purprose.
Oh and to the gas station that puts little metal advertising signs all along the front strip, effectively blocking the view of anyone not in an SUV, you get a special fuck you all your own.
No, Interstate, but the general speed range is the same. I typically cruise at around 100, which would probably put me in the middle lane on the Autobahn. Car gets around 25 MPG at those speeds; that’s no worse than it does at 75, and very little worse than it does at 55.
Dear jerkweed in the Mack truck:
I was going 60 in a 55. It was not necessary for you to try to force me off the road when your big ass couldn’t pass me before lanes merged.
It was not necessary to swerve all over the road after I refused to BE forced off the road. I’m sure you scared the heck outta the other people on the road.
If you weren’t so damned stupid you could’ve just passed me when the road opened to two lanes again… y’know, like you ended up doing ANYWAY?
You could’ve saved yourself alot of frustration, and I wouldn’t have made it a point of knowing where you work. Dumbass.
Hi. I am the tail car in a three vehicle caravan. Our group is travelling at an even pace, keeping almost precisely 1.5 car lengths between us as we drive to our beach house, which I have never been to before. Ahead of us are about 5 more cars, all travelling about 5 miles under the speed limit because it’s a no pass zone and the first car in line is being driven by an octogenarian with narcolepsy.
These details do NOT add up to “Woo hoo! I am in a four-banger pickup and I think I will go ahead and pass as many cars as I can before I get creamed by an oncoming Mack truck!” This is obvious, because as soon as you get around me and saw that there was no was you could make it to the front, you nearly ran me AND my sister off the road squeezing in between us.
This is fine, this is ok…but wait. You then decide to drop down to about 10 miles under the limit, and we fall farther and farther behind the rest of traffic. Can I pass you? No, because it’s still a NO PASS ZONE.
These events lead up to me losing the rest of my family and missing a turn, because my father tends to forget when he’s leading a caravan, and wasting almost an hour of my day trying to figure out how to get to the beach on my own, because there’s no cellular service in this part of Bumfuck.
You bastard.