Dear Guy Camping Out In the Middle Lane of the Highway,
You probably don’t remember me as you seemed totally oblivious to anything around you, but mine was the car stuck directly behind you for eons* on the highway the other day.
Traffic was heavy, but not stop-and-go. If that were the case it wouldn’t have mattered where you hung out. No, traffic was heavy, but it was moving…until it reached you. You had pitched your tent in the middle lane and there you stayed going a steady, unwavering 60 miles per hour. The speed limit was 70. And I was stuck behind you going a steady, unwavering 60 miles per hour because traffic was whizzing by us going 75 miles per hour in both the right and left lanes. I could not get out of your slip stream.
When I was finally able to pass, I looked over at you. Perhaps you felt the Twin Laser Beams of Righteous Fury shooting out of my eyeballs and through your skull? But I don’t think so. You continued to stare straight ahead, complacent and oblivious, wearing a slightly slack-jawed, bovine expression.
I get why you don’t want to be in the right lane; you don’t want to deal with merging and exiting traffic. I totally get it. But tough doo-doo for you, buddy boy, because the right lane IS the hangout lane. The middle lane isn’t. The right lane is where you belong when you’re:
- Not passing anyone
- About to exit
- Going the speed limit or below
Especially if you’re going below the speed limit. Then, the right lane is the ONLY place for you.
Islands In the Stream can be a good thing…when it’s a song by Dolly and Kenny. When those islands are clueless dip-wads who make everyone else swim around them on a busy, 3 lane highway at rush hour? Not so good.
Let me conclude by saying, on behalf of everybody stuck behind you, from the bottom of my heart (and I don’t think I’m exaggerating here): we hate you.
*It was about 1-1/2 minutes which, as any student of science knows, is an eon as time is measured via Quantum Vehicular Physics.