A two lane on ramp, that merges to one after signals.
I am first on the ramp. I am first to the light. Some asshole comes up from the right, but again, I am first.
La la la.
It’s now like this: (5 southbound lanes)
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So this lane (5) goes to WB I-10. I don’t want that. I want EB 202, which is the next lane over (4). Clear. Merge. NBFD, right? However, Mr. tough guy is evidently pissed about ‘losing” some sort of on ramp race to my xoxbox. So, he is going to George Costanza merge from 5-4 before me. Whoops! Foiled.
“Goddammit, I am not putting up with this shit!”
Whoo, boy, you showed me, dude.
More finger. Then 4-5.
That’s right. The lane he wanted to be in was the lane he started this exercise in. One half mile, four lane changes and a windburned bird finger and blistered horn finger later, and Einstein is exactly where he would be if he wasn’t so road raged into showing me he was faster.
I guess I got schooled.