By the time you're a fag paper from my bumper.... you're in my rear view mirror...... you can see the car in front of me is also in a stream of traffic going at the same speed.
As the dual carriagway curves left and right you could potentially see the string of traffic ahead of me (if you were a bit further back)... there's at least 15 cars all doing the same speed.
Once the traffic clears a little I will speed up with everyone else, then pull across. If there's no one in front of me, I will move across anyway when there's space..., and you can sod off at mach 10. Happy days. But right now you don't know how fast I MIGHT go if the road were clear.
but right now, ... you can't go anywhere.... If I move over, you gain 25 metres and then ram yourself up the exhaust pipe of the bloke in front.
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here's the rub. If you smack into my car... its your fault. But I lose me car.
And my car is worth £100.
I won't get another one like this for £100. Forget the whiplash or worse. Forget the personal injury.....
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And you're not the archetypal Audi/BMW/VW motorway stormer. You're not the Rangerover or E class motorway stormer....
nope..... ... I'm surprised... it normally is...
you're young girl in a Corsa, with huge sunglasses, barely able to see over the steering wheel, and I can see you looking at your phone.
you are scant metres from me and it's 0'C and the road is damp. We're doing just under 60mph like everyone else.
In front of me is a semi-safe gap, and I was jut waiting for someone to cut that in half.. the eternal road-balance of being safe but not looking like it's a space for someome to steal and half my stopping distance.
And instead... I've got you licking my rear wiper blade, forehead glistening like Rihanna with a sweat-on gleaming above the wheel of your little hatch, as you attempt to be a vet and insert yourself up the cows arse of my car, armpit deep.
And you're probably whatsapping your mate that you're running late and a miserable little crap-heap is in the way
/goes away.