The Middle Lane Hogger. May 25, 2008

You all know them. You have all at least once directed words at them pertaining to the ‘one that performs lone sexual acts’ category. Tosser seems to do it, quite often. You have repeatedly given them the death stare while clenching your steering wheel in a death grip to keep from overtaking them in the wrong lane.

I am talking about the Middle Lane Hogger.

This special subspecies of man exists solely for the purpose of annoying the shit out of you. There are two types: those who shouldn’t be allowed on the motorway because they live to instill road rage in their fellow drivers, and those who just shouldn’t be allowed on the motorway full stop. Both of them have a tendency to drive people-carriers, Vauxhall or Renault being favourites, preferably decorated with stickers, those sun shade-y things they seem only to give away with double packs of Johnson’s Baby Oil, and at least one fluffy animal staring at you from the back of their vehicle of doom. There are of course many others, such as the Suzuki-driving granny, or the single middle class man who really shouldn’t have bought that Audi RS4 because he just had to remortgage his flat, and now he is afraid to damage his piece of german überness made for tearing down hairpin roads in the Alps. Point is, I just had an encounter with the first kind: the people-carrier driver. More about that later.

 
A tad bit too extreme?

How to recognize type A, i.e. the full-blown ‘yes, I carry a box of Kleenex with me all the time and it isn’t because I am very emotional’ tosser, from type B, i.e. ‘yes, I carry a box of Kleenex with me all the time because our youngest/my Cocker Spaniel shits all over the seats’?
Because, my friends, type A always makes that fatal mistake of looking smug. He might even point to his lovely pine-scented air freshener in the shape of a teddy bear’s head dangling from the rear-view mirror to let you know that he does have the whole family car theme thing covered. He is armed and prepared. Poised to strike. You were thinking of switching lanes? Well, you can forget about that and just nicely crawl along behind that lorry, because the Middle Lane Hogger has got you boxed in. That is what you get for always nicely moving back to the slow lane.

Only two hours ago did I have the pleasure of encountering a Middle Lane Hogger. I was nicely cruising along, singing along to Duran Duran’s ‘The Reflex’ only to shut up after noticing my dad’s discomfort. I was minding my own business on the motorway, when all of a sudden I spot a black Vauxhall Zafira. Shit. Bumper sticker. And a learners’ L. A young man, about my age, with his mother.
Now, here I have to mention that I myself was driving a Vauxhall Zafira (new series, loaded with dad’s stuff from work) with a learners’ L in the back. But! But, before you say I am a pot calling a kettle black, hear me out.
If I would ever dare to hog the middle lane, my dad would glare, point to the slow lane, and make a lesson out of it. This young man’s mother just sat there staring at the cars that were passing them by on either side. She was basically encouraging him to keep hogging the shit out of that strip of tarmac.
I overtake him, not even having to go above the speed limit. For fifteen minutes, I could see him in my rear-view mirror, falling further back but holding just about everyone up. Meanwhile, I am still sticking to the rules of proper driving. Then, all of a sudden, this tosser comes speeding by – in the middle lane, of course. Now it was personal. How very dare he. The impertinence. He had boxed me in and I had to fall back, get around him again and carefully move back to the slow lane. He didn’t give up though, and kept hogging. He had just done as much as flipping me off with his behaviour. I was about to turn this into a petty pissing contest, but luckily for him, I had to get off at the next junction. I hope someone else stole his victory away from him. I hope someone else shook their head in a ‘tsk tsk’ motion at his mother.

Now, don’t lie to me and tell me you wouldn’t at least get a tad bit annoyed. Maybe you would even engage in some moral finger pointing yourself, never endangering other drivers like the tosser who feels the need to take the piss out of a rule that is understood by every normal driver: don’t. hog. the. middle. lane. Ever.
So to prepare those new to driving, some good nigh-on scientific literature: How Motorways Work.

All I can say is: you won’t win, Middle Lane Hogger. You won’t win. The middle road isn’t always a compromise.