I only did this once. On a lonely west Texas highway, where the flat boredom is punctuated by a battle between oil wells and windmills, we came upon a left lane hog in a nondescript sedan with heavily tinted windows. We followed the driver for a few miles, two cars alone on the road. Then I slowly passed him on the right. As our chariots drew even I shucked out a big grin.

The response was immediate. The window lowered and the driver leaned over to show a big ‘ol toothy grin, too. Life’s too short for road rage. We traded thumbs up and I sped on toward Dallas.

Cheryl didn’t care for the antics. But neither does she care for my sure-fire lane-hog buster: “The passing lane had become a mobile dam, the driver ahead of us had no interest in yielding. It was then that Erifnus reminded me of the road-clearing tactic graciously supplied by the highway department. When a car edges to the shoulder stripe on an interstate, its tires hit a corrugated rumble strip that makes them roar like a foghorn. The rumble strip alerts texters and sleepy drivers that they’re running off the road.

“Erifnus likes it for a different purpose. If we’re stuck behind a car in the passing lane, whether it’s a lane hog or a cellular hellcat, Erifnus instinctively edges toward the shoulder stripe, where her tires play the corrugated highway strip like a tympani. The noise annoys cell phone talkers, and unnerves lane hogs, who eventually relinquish the lane, unsure of my next move.”

–from A Road Trip Into America’s Hidden Heart