The Magic of Rush Hour

You’re driving in rush hour traffic when the inevitable strikes:

You have to change lanes.

You’re stuck behind a minivan who’s competing for the honor of being the world’s slowest driver. And for the briefest of moments, you could almost call it an instant, you think about killing yourself.

You slap yourself out of it and decide to deal with this head-on.

Your hand flicks down on the turn signal, and your eyes find the mirror.

But then, something crazy happens…

It’s downright, damn-right unexpected.

Instead of announcing to the world, “Hey, slow down, I’d like to move over,” your turn signal behaves as if it came from an opposite reality. It screams, “Speed on up.”

And damnit, does it ever work.

Driving about 20 feet behind you in the passing lane is a moron, the kind with their nose down in their phone. The half-baked meme their coworker sent them is currently taking precedence over driving. And apparently, you have to deal with it.

So he says.

And like the total sap you are, you think, “Oh gee, I can merge; there’s room.

But your turn signal has power. 

The instant that baby goes up, the moron goes full sleeper agent.

He vibrates violently against his seat belt, and his mouth foams. His eyes, once blue, goes full swirly as he presses the pedal through the floor. And a giant thought bubble appears over his car:

I’ll be damned if anyone dares to pass me on THIS highway!”

Then magic happens…

He goes full Houdini and appears in the side view mirror right before passing you by.


Where was this moron a few seconds ago? 

You shake it off and chalk it up to traffic, but then, something happens. 

Over your shoulder, car after car, mile after mile, speeds up as if it was the end of the world.

They’re driving so fast that it makes you wonder if you should be driving fast too. This just don’t add up. Surely there must be a Godzilla-like creature causing chaos.

And now that you started thinking, you start to panic.

So you press the hammer down, until you feel the floor when something stops you…

Rather forcefully.

You look up from the mirror and your bumping bumpers with that fucking minivan.

The stupid stick-figure family bumper sticker is smiling at you oblivious to what just happened. 

The minivan’s brakes flash red.

You stop.

You swear.

Your diet coke spills all over your pants.

Welcome to rush hour.

Please like, comment, share and tell me what you think. What’s your favorite part of rush hour.

35 thoughts on “The Magic of Rush Hour

  1. I drive into the city Saturdays and I get in the lane I need to be in as soon as I get on the highway. I get what you mean about the people not letting you over, monsters.

  2. Tony, you are so funny. I’m so glad you have this blog.

    I work for myself so I don’t get trapped in rush hour, and sometimes if I have to meet a client later in the day and am stuck in rush hour, it doesn’t bother me because I have a favorite radio station or a CD with me. I also have a shaker that I can use to practice my rhythm along with a song if I am in traffic. I also do eye exercises. I can have great patience.

  3. Wait! What? Someone is using signal lights? I feel like I’m the only person in my town that uses them. Like – the local car lot ran a ‘signal lights’ optional sale and everyone got a new car but me.

    Great post.

  4. I notice people have gotten crazier with their driving since COVID when we had lockdown and they had the roads to themselves with everyone at home. NOW more people on the road, but they still think they have the road to themselves. Stay safe.

  5. What a great little tale, so very accurate too . Thankfully my shift work allows be to avoid the rush hour most of the time! I love those moments when I catch myself about to respond and then wind my neck back in as I think, “What’s the point, what’s the end game here??”. 😂

  6. You merge and shift, in rush hour you thrive,
    But then something strange, happens to jive,
    Your turn signal, so humble, so meek,
    Screams “Speed on up,” a move so cheek.

    The moron behind, with phone in hand,
    Becomes a sleeper agent in your land,
    His pedal to the floor, his eyes now crazed,
    As he passes you by, his victory praised.

    But then, car after car, speeds on up,
    You panic and think, “Should I join the cup?”
    You press the pedal down, ready to fly,
    But then you bump, oh minivan, oh my.

    The stick-figure family, all smile and glee,
    Unaware of the chaos, the rush hour debris,
    You swear and shake, your coke spills with glee,
    Welcome to rush hour, oh sweet misery.

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