THE SNAKE

I know I’m not the best driver in the world, sometimes I’d forget to indicate for example, or maybe go through a set of lights more red than amber, but at least I’m not a middle lane driver.
I hate those people, the people who plan their lives around making all motorways two lanes. They’re worse than the over taking Lorries, you know the ones, the big ones that try to overtake at a quarter of a mile faster than the one in front.
But they only do it for a set period of time, okay that period may block the lanes for ten minutes, but eventually they drop back into the lane and continue until the driver behind decides its his turn.
No, middle lane drivers really get on my wick. I’m not being sexist here; I’ve seen enough men middle lane drivers to not blame the women. They are usually shorter than the rest of the world though, they sit close to the steering wheel, usually almost resting their chins on it. Big national health glasses and an inability to look in the mirror, or to actually go anywhere near the speed limit.
Either way, I’ve notices over the course of the last few months a new habit, a new breed of driver on the road, the `Snaker`. These drivers will pull in front of the middle lane drivers before indicating again to go into the slow lane in an attempt to get them to follow. A single driver isn’t called a Snaker, but when three or more get together and they weave in front of the middle Laner it’s wonderful to watch, it’s even better to be part of.
The one I’m in now is about ten cars long already, I muscled my way into the centre, its not traveling very fast but when the reach a slower moving vehicle, the move together, like one long snake body.
They’re contagious though, you feel bad leaving them, and you actually can find yourself missing your junction just to be a part of it. That’s me, I should have come off at the last junction, but there are four cars behind me, following the trail now and I can’t miss a ten car snake, the biggest I’ve been in before was five.
I see the lead car indicate that it’s leaving the motorway, at this point I should have left it, but every other car indicated with it, the lights flashing on as they moved up the snake towards me, so I did to, I didn’t want to be the one to break the snake.
We came of the motorway down the slip road, at the bottom the lead car indicated left, and we all magically seemed to do the same. For the next seven miles or so we all followed the lead car, stopping at junctions, waiting for the others to catch up when a red light cut us off and weaving down country lanes.
It felt great to be in this, the team work, the feeling of comradeship and trust. The fact I was now over an hour late for getting home didn’t enter my mind. I was riding in the snake and I was proud. I could tell other drivers were jealous, they slowed down, letting us through at junctions, or pulling of the main road to let us pass.
After about ten minutes the lead car indicated and pulled over to the side of the road, everyone else did the same, so I followed. It was only natural after all, I was part of the snake, and I was car number five, the middle car. One by one the drivers parked and stopped their cars and walked up the garden path in their black business suits, it all looked so official, so I parked up also and followed driver four to the door.
Everyone was going inside, shaking the hands of the owner as they entered, I felt wonderful, like I’d stumbled across some sort of secret club, passed the initiation and being invited to be a part of something bigger. I wiped my jeans down with my hands and tucked in my t-shirt as I approached the door before vigorously shaking the man’s hand.
“That was so awesome.” I beamed. “Absolutely brilliant, the best thing ever, it’s made my day that has, I think more people should do this, I’m gonna blog about this tonight, my mates are not going to believe this, that was like being in the fast and furious.” The lead man looked at me, confusion crossing his face; his red, tired eyes told me he’d had a hard day at the office so I fist bumped him to cheer him up. “Totally awesome, dude.”
“I’m sorry.” He politely said as he rubbed his hand, somewhat taken back by my comment. “You’re obviously welcome to the funeral, but how exactly did you know my late wife?.”
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