You're not the driver I hate unless you whip around me on the right before I have a chance to get out of your way on the left. I have my blinker on! I'm moving! Just wait two seconds!

Oh, no -- if they have a blinker on, and if I haven't just driven behind them for 5 minutes while they blithely didn't move, then I wait for them to move over so I can hit the long skinny pedal on the left and go vroom.

But, I mean -- I truly don't understand the people who enter the highway on the right, and then defy safety to get all the way over to the left, only to drive 5-10 mph *under* the speed limit. Given that most people around here drive about 5-10 mph *over,* that makes Turtle McSlowass driving at anywhere from 5-20 mph slower than the rest of traffic. While in the fast lane. That kind of shit causes accidents.

The right-passing driver I hate is the one who chooses to pass on the right when there are wide-open lanes on my left. And I'm a good 10 or so above the limit. Even if doing so means they have to jump into an off-ramp lane which I've already signaled that I'm getting into. THAT's the right-passing driver I hate.

I drive really slow/in the ultra-fast lane/while people behind me/are going insane...

I drive slow, but I drive on the right. Which still didn't stop some ass from coming up behind me *in the far RIGHT lane* and flashing his lights at me. What was I supposed to do, pull off onto the shoulder? The lane to the left was clear, he just didn't feel his Extra Super Special Procession to Wherever should be impeded by him having to shift his course.

SUV, of course. YOu may have noticed that I hate SUVS.

In Indiana the highways are straight and flat and empty.

Only by virtue of being in Abi's car and not my own did I control myself.

Had I the bread, I'd drive a sweet car like a maniac and just pay the tickets.

Oh, I should say--I have a new car! Or, new to me. Some friends are long-term-loaning me their Taurus until I can get my '79 Mustang road worthy again. This is the first car I've driven on a regular basis that was built after I got married. I'm having to learn how to drive an automatic again--not to mention the power steering. I nearly put myself in the gutter this morning turning to get out of my driveway. Plus I had to spend 15 minutes finding all the controls for the seat and the defroster and the headlights. So many buttons! And they're all mine!

So many buttons! And they're all mine!

Do NOT push the one marked "ejector seat" until you can ascertain that it's for the passenger side....

In Indiana the highways are straight and flat and empty.

When I moved out to Utah in '82, I went back to Pennsylvania so I could retrieve my car. Somewhere in west Kansas, the road unkinked itself to lay flat and straight for the next 300 miles. Not another car in view. I looked at my passenger and said, "I've always wondered how fast my car can go."

86 mph, fully loaded.

Do NOT push the one marked "ejector seat" until you can ascertain that it's for the passenger side

I keep channelling my father by looking at a button and saying, "Who the hell needs a button for that? Can't they open the trunk/move the seat/adjust the mirror by themselves?"

I think I am going to invest in a small hammer just in case I get caught in a situation where the power windows fail and I can't get the door open.

While I'm not proud of it, there was a time I settled down behind a Porsche with a radar detector on a midwestern highway and was going 105mph. The thing is, we got passed. Twice.