Thank you, man in the big white PennDOT truck barreling down 28. By cutting me off, you shaved an entire four seconds off of your trip so that you can stand around watching other people tear up the same stretch of road you guys just worked on last year for who knows what reason besides spending absolutely the most amount of other people's money you possibly can for no reason at all.
Thank you, asshat in a big stupid truck. I am certain your big stupid truck benefited greatly from weaving from the passing lane to the righthand lane repeatedly as you slow down on the exact same grades you slow down on every time you go anywhere for any reason and are therefore shocked--shocked!--that people pass you and then speed up as fast as physics allows when you have a full twenty feet to spare. I'm certain this will get you to your destination a whole lot quicker, and won't cut into your time of paying moldy slags for sex in the darkened bathrooms at rest stops and downing bottles of amphetamines and Red Bull after you piss in a cup and throw it out the driver's side window at two in the afternoon on the residential street you're not supposed to be driving through.
And thank you, douchcake in a steel blue convertible with the top down when it's 55 degrees out. I know that it's very important that you pick up your Rogaine and Viagra from the pharmacy as soon as possible, because the expiration date of the blond in your passenger side looks to be about up, but I would appreciate it if, when it looks like traffic might be backed up and hasn't moved for two minutes, you don't stop right in the middle of the intersection. I'm sure you could comb the feudal law books to point your sandstone fingers at the statute that puts you in the right, but to everyone else you're just another lost asshole chasing a nonexistent dream.