The Bembreneth Way

I was driving across the Causeway Bridge.  This is the longest bridge in the world that connects New Orleans to the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain. It is a 24 mile bridge that is completely over water. It was during morning traffic and things were moving somewhat slowly but steadily.  I was in the left lane  moving about the same speed as the right lane, sometimes slower, sometimes faster.
I heard a horn blow from behind me.  It was from a brand spanking new Ford F-350, and it was right on my back bumper.  Then the driver started flashing his lights and waving his hands as if he were really angry.  I wasn’t sure what he wanted; I was already too close to the car in front of me, and I had no place to move over in the right lane.  So I just figured he was some idiot who liked to scream at people who owned a Prius (yes, I own a Prius).
At that moment, the traffic in the right lane sped up some and was going quicker than the left lane.  I watched in disbelief as the truck behind me quickly swerved to the right lane, almost taking off the front end of the car next to him. He sped up to the point of barely passing my car and rear ending the car in front of him, while looking at and still screaming at me.  And as he swerved back over to the left lane almost, but not really, taking out the front end of my car, I realized the error of my ways.
It came to me as if a window to the world opened before me and revealed long held secrets about the driving universe. This man was actually a genius.  He was a car driving savant who knew that the space in front of me was exactly the same length as his brand new Ford F-350.  And because I wasn’t driving in that space, it was his.
And the universe also revealed to me that although it may seem silly,  in these times of rising oil prices and civil unrest in the Middle East,  to buy a big 18 mpg (if you’re lucky) truck and drive it like a maniac through traffic, this man actually had it all figured out.
Since his truck can hold more gas in its tank than most gas stations can store, he was driving from station to station collecting all the gas he could get as fast as he could.  This would lead to huge savings down the line when the price of gas goes even higher.  Hell, he might be able to sell it for a hefty profit.
And so even though my car costs half of what his truck costs, and I get 55 mpg (3 times more than his), and they both hold the same amount of people, and I can also put a full size washing machine in mine,  he wins.  My tank is only 11 gallons, and I don’t even know the length of my car.
Much to my dismay, I must listen to the gods of the driving universe, and bow down before the mighty Ford F-150, 250, and 350 drivers who rule the roads.  They have an intelligence I cannot match.
And that is: The Bembreneth Way