No. Don't. Do not flash your high beams at me.
I see you back there. I know the car pool lane just ended. I know there's open freeway in front of me. Stop...stop flashing your high beams at me.
Look, this isn't the Autobahn. We don't do that stuff here. You're not late for a kaffeeklatsch in Dusseldorf. You're not having veal, spaetzle and a liter of beer for lunch today. You don't have any loose Deutschmarks in your ashtrays. And if you did, they'd be worthless since Germany's on the Euro now. You would know that, of course, if this was Germany and we were on the Autobahn right now. But it isn't and we're not, so stop flashing your high beams at me. You're not planning a weekend beach getaway to Calais. You're not a Bayern partisan.
Okay, fine, fine. I'm getting over. Don't flash your high beams at me.
Don't look to the right when you pass me. You don't need to study my face to see what kind of person slows you down in the morning. I'm not looking back at you. I already know what kind of person flash their high beams when they want to pass.
Why don't you undo the top button of your pima cotton polo shirt and relax, Guy in a Black 3 Series?