Driving Myself Nuts

At this writing, I have under my belt more than two months of commuting to Northfield, and about ten days left before my commute turns from a 50/60-minute slog each way to a 5/10 minute bike ride. Not that I'm counting the days or anything. One semi-benefit of having done this commute is a greater awareness of things motor-vehicular. Viz.:

1. Kicking the snow turds out of your wheel wells is great fun.
2. Minnesotans are terrible at merging with traffic. Really, we should be ashamed.
   
   
   • Booking along I-35, I routinely see vehicles coming to a full stop at the end of an on-ramp, right when they should be accelerating up to freeway speed.
   • Conversely, I also routinely see morons continue to barrel along in the right lane even when they could easily move left into unoccupied space and let entering traffic use the right lane. About the only drivers you see who do move left as a matter of course are truckers.
     
     
3. Cornfields are fantastic scenery in summer, fall, and especially winter. The stubble poking up through the snow is a wonderful sight. The combines rumbling linearly along are pretty cool, too.
   
4. By and large, two-lane highways in open country (say, Dakota County 23 between Apple Valley and Northfield) make for easier and more pleasant driving than freeways (say, I-35 between of Burnsville and exit 69).
5. NPR is critical for maintaining sanity whilst driving.
6. Passing on the right is a plague upon America (as the Right is, generally). It's unfortunately common on the freeway, when lollygaggers in the left lane force you to sneak around the right side. It's also dangerously common on two-lane roads, where more than once I have had some idiot exploit a wide shoulder or even the suggestion of a distant right-turn lane to edge up on me and even to gun his (always his) way through. To the ditch with you, sir!
7. Cars are, even in the best circumstances, bad places to spend time by yourself. They simultaneously demand full mental and physical attention and repel that attention, sending the mind out on bizarre reveries like my five-minute ponder upon the topic of why "gas" is called "gas" when it's actually a liquid. I mean, please: someone save me from my brain.
8. Use your goddamn turn signal, dumbass. Jeez.