Do you have somewhere to be? Does everyone else around you have places to be? Naturally, the sanest way to make sure everybody gets where they’re going in seamless social transit is to flash the signal and merge into an open lane. Oh, but the driver some ways behind you sees what you’re trying to do, and they’re going to take it personally. If you want to merge, you’re going to have to do it in front of someone else, because changing lanes is the same as cutting in line, which is anarchy writ small in the Land of 10,000 Lakes. “Stay in your lane!” that driver cannot help but think, projecting an impulse to police other people formed over a lifetime of nonconfrontational grudge-holding disguised as Midwestern politeness. You don’t care. You know the law. You’re not going to miss your exit and burn fuel circling the interstate, enabling psychopaths. You merge. They honk—incensed, indignant, zooming ahead to get a good look at your face in order to confirm some racial or gender-specific speculation. You don’t care. You’re at peace with your god.