The Economy

In the left lane. Drive whatever you want to in the right lane, but don't be a left lane bandit.

 

I hate you.

 

There are no winners in this battle.

 

Ach!

I tend to pull over when I see the real-life analog to the Coen Bros' Angel of Death from Raising Arizona churning up 31 or 25 (or 6 to 4) in my rearview mirror. It's easier to assume they're moving from Point A to Point B for a reason and some of them may have timetables to follow. Everybody's got a story.

Maybe your picture in another thread should have been HST?

I drive a 2017(?) Ford Fiesta after years and years and years of driving Toyotas. What can I say? I love The Lima Bean and will be very sad when it wears out because Ford is no longer releasing new models in North America. It's agile, unexpectedly roomy, great on gas, and Jeremy Clarkson gave it a good review, so neener. Getting back in the saddle soon, which will mean lots of wandering around Kentucky and Tennessee. Having done some fieldwork off the beaten track (and more than a few dirt roads,) it's already a given that The Bean can handle it.

 

Making people this angry before noon on a Saturday with a random half-fictional bit I invented is a major win.

 

OK, but the shooting thing from Driftwood was clearly hyperbole too. I think you need to take the whole history into account here.

 

What do some of you all do when there’s a cyclist on the road?

 

Move over, give them plenty of room, and go by. There is a big difference between being stuck behind a cyclist for a few hundred feet that you will eventually be able to pass and being stuck behind a car or dump truck for miles and miles with no way around.

 

A couple weeks ago, doing 88 on I-80 east of Rock Springs, some guy in a Corvette blew by me at about 115. Left me in the dust.

I say, you go, man. If there are any cops, they'll get you and I can keep on cruising.

But, don't camp out and do 75 in the left lane when the legal speed limit is 80, and the actual speed limit is 85-90.

 

Veer slightly right and open my passenger door.

Hyperbole or no?

 

When someone tells you who they are, believe them.