Hey! You in the dark blue Chevy Chevrolet Impala talking on the phone! Get out of the way!
Die ganze Welt dreht sich um mich, denn ich bin nur ein Egoist.
Der Mensch, der mir am nächsten ist, bin ich, ich bin ein Egoist.
You’re driving 70 mph on the left lane on I-696. Are you crazy? This is Michigan— you’re going to get rear-ended. You may be at the speed limit, but minivans driven by soccer moms who have to be somewhere are swerving around you. You are a clueless, talking, moving hazard. Vacate the left lane now.
You’re also drifting in and out of your lane (a classic case of someone who needs a lane departure warning system and a slap upside the head). I really don’t care if you scrape your car on that concrete divider, but every time you go onto the shoulder, you’re sending Detroit freeway flotsam at my car. But if I’m lucky, something there will give you a flat tire and get you out of my way.
Have you noticed the gap in front of you? Of course not, you’re yapping on the phone while creating a tear in the fabric of the traffic-time continuum. Don’t you realize that’s how wheel-warping potholes are created? Meanwhile, we’re all piled up here behind you, tailgating like dogs in heat. You really need to get out of the fast lane.
By the way, what’s so important on the phone that you’re oblivious to everything around you? You’re probably just talking to your buddy. “Dude, did ya see the game last night? Was that awesome!?” No, it was not awesome. Move. Over.
“Dude,” you’re not hanging out at your buddy’s place. Nor is this your living room couch. Get your feet off the metaphorical coffee table and get the #%@! out of the way!
It’s a wonder Detroiters don’t shoot each other more often on the freeway.