I drive in the slow lane all the time on my way to school every morning. I have to go from Fort Worth to Denton at 7 AM every day, and I'll be going 85 MPH in the SLOW lane, with people zipping past me in the fast lane doing 90-100 MPH. But allow me to relate a story that had me pissed off the rest of the night.
It's Friday night, and I'm coming home from a movie. I was alone, in my little 1986 Honda Prelude 2.0 Si. Loop 820 that circles Fort Worth is notorious for being dangerous after 10 PM, as most of the Ft. Worth police are busy guarding bars to keep the drinks off the road.
They missed one.
I'm doing 75 MPH in the fast lane (60 is the limit) and I'm just cruising. All of a sudden, a pair of headlights fills my mirror. Being the billigerent teenager I am, I hold my ground. I'm already speeding, and the right lane is full of cars. I don't have any room to move over anyway, and I don't want to speed up because cops DO hide on that highway, no matter what time.
The headlights flash, and I speed up a bit. I'm doing 85 now. They flash again, and I speed up more. I'm now doing 105 MPH, 15 miunutes from my home. They flash AGAIN (!), so I move over to the right lane to let these guys pass.
It was a brand new Chevrolet Impala, with 4 people inside. Rather than zipping past me, they pull up along side and the passenger shoots me the finger.
So I shot it back...I could care less because it's nighttime and I'm already pissed off.
Then the window starts rolling down, so I slow down a little bit. They slow to stay beside me, and the passenger begins yelling out the window at me, with his three friends shouting at the same time. Since the driver isn't paying attention, he begins drifing into my lane. So I slow again, and so does he.
I'm now fully pissed off. I slam my brakes, the tires squeeling against the rough pavement. I'm back down to 60 MPH. The Impala, being full of inebriated teenagers no older than me, also hits the brakes, but the car swerves into my lane. They're trying to make me stop, probably to get me out of the car and prove how macho they are.
So I swirve around them and take off, hitting over 130 MPH and pissed and scared. I never saw them again after I took my exit.
I hate Texas drivers sometimes...