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Posted by on Jul 27, 2012 in Las Vegas, Personal, Rants and Raves | 3 comments

Nolan Dalla Rants: Do Not Tread On Me

Running in The Lakes of Las Vegas


This is an all out declaration of war.

If you’re one of the fucking idiots who consistently drives in the RIGHT-HAND LANE….if you are one of the obnoxious jackasses oblivious to those who casually stroll along on sidewalks making our daily walks and runs….if you selfishly barrel through busy intersections like the ass-joker that you are….I’m issuing you a full-fledged warning.

From this moment forward, I will no longer be responsible for my actions or what happens to your vehicle.  Prepare to meet my middle finger.  Prepare to hear the blasting of my horn.  Prepare for my flashing headlights.

It’s WAR.

I am making it a mission to improve traffic flow.  I’m making it a mission to save both time and energy.  I’m making it a mission to reduce needless vehicle emissions.  I hereby declare that the RIGHT-HAND LANE is only for entering/exiting the roadway and for making right turns.  Nothing else.

And now let me explain why this is such an outrage.

I’ve taken up running the last several months.  In virtually every city I’ve visited since I began my training program, I observed a consistent pattern of unmistakable rudeness.  Often when running along a sidewalk, perhaps no more than a few feet from the right-hand traffic lane, these brain-dead jokers completely oblivious to common courtesy roar past me like out-of-control freight trains.  These vehicles race by in a mindless stupor, blinded to any manifestation of humanity.

I first became incensed about this problem when I used to regularly ride a bike.  Anyone who bikes or runs will immediately identify with what I’m about to convey.  There would be three or perhaps four lanes of traffic.  PLENTY of space.  I’d be off to the side peddling and would begin to hear the perilous sound of a roaring engine coming up behind me.  Then, the vehicle would race upon me quickly, and then ultimately pass — mere inches away, barreling along at 40 or 50 miles per hour — sometimes faster.  Yet, all the other lanes of traffic remained empty.

I began to ask — couldn’t they move over just one goddamned lane in order to not frighten a cyclist?


During my so-called “cycling phase,” many cars nearly ran me down.  Sometimes, I felt like a contestant on “Deathwish.”

After nearly getting flattened, splashed, covered with discarded bags of garbage, hit by beer cans, spit on, and cursed at over the course of many months, I finally said “fuck it” and sold off my bike.

Well, now I’m running instead.  And the “traffic civility” problem — or lack thereof — is WORSE than ever.

Earlier this year, while visiting West Palm Beach — I ran each day along the coastal roadway adjacent to the Atlantic Ocean.  From my workouts, I arrived at some interesting conclusions about human behavior as it relates to socio-economic class.

I admit that I have no actual scientific data on this, but trust me that my number of traffic encounters is beyond statistically relevant.  It couldn’t possibly be random or accidental.

Who were the most courteous drivers?  Generally speaking — they were the skilled tradesmen.  People like truckers.  Bus drivers.  Delivery people.  Taxi drivers.  Plumbers.  Maintenance men.  People doing regular real jobs for regular wages.  I think they understand what it’s like to put yourself out there in traffic each day and therefore were sympathetic to other people they saw out on the road.

How was I able to identify the “tradesmen?”  Easy.  They usually drove marked vehicles or white vans with bold lettering.  I was never (and I mean NEVER) run off the road by a typical tradesman.

The next nicest drivers were middle-class people, those driving typical cars.  You know, like Toyotas.  Hondas.  Volvos.  Mini-vans.  They often slowed down or moved over when I was running close to the roadway.

Which now brings up the royal ass jokers.  So, which drivers were the worst?

It was a tie between the rich drivers and the poor drivers.  Both of these classes tend to drive like fucking headhunters.

That’s right.  Drivers of $600 shitboxes and $80,000 BMWs share at least one common trait — they tend to be the rudest most inconsiderate road mates.  Hummers.  BMWs.  Lexuses.  Range Rovers.  Flashy cars.  To these drivers, cars are not transporters.  They are weapons.

Fucking pricks!

Since West Palm Beach is littered with selfish rich people (report on this coming next week), I began to run in fear with each passing day.  When I saw a convertible sports car zipping towards my path, I realized that I was just a sneeze away from being flattened like a ground squirrel.  When I saw some clueless loser barreling down the roadway in a rusted out relic with a cracked windshield, I knew that I better watch out.

Nolan Dalla Running 2012


Apparently, science bears out my suspicions.  According to a recent study, about 6 percent of all drivers are “sadists.”   That’s right — SADISTS.  A researcher was determined to find out if people actually enjoy killing when they get behind a steering wheel.  The findings were frightening.

People, I am NOT making this up.

In the study, various animal figurines (which looked very real but were made of rubber) were placed on a roadway, including harmless creatures such as turtles.


The researcher configured the test to see of drivers would actually swerve from their normal path in order to achieve “road kill.”  To his horror (and mine), he discovered that six percent of all vehicles actually swerved out of their traffic lane in order to DELIBERATELY KILL the animal.

The study can be found here:

So, assuming six percent of the drivers out there are complete wackos (I’ll leave it up to you if you think *I* belong in this category for what I am about to counter-propose), that means about 1 out of every 20 cars might get some enjoyment out of potentially flattening me.  Extrapolated into real time, this means about every two minutes, someone wants to MURDER me when I am running.


Well, you fuckers are about to get payback.  Payback in fucking spades.

Read carefully.  This is what drivers education SHOULD be teaching.  If there are THREE lanes of traffic, as is common on most major streets, each lane serves a specific purpose.  The CENTER lane contains the main flow of traffic.  This is the place where most cars belong, especially when heavy traffic is not an issue.

The LEFT-HAND lane is mostly for passing vehicles.  However, it is also for faster-moving cars.  You better be going at least the speed limit on the left lane, or you should be run off the road.

Which now brings me to the sacred territory of today’s blog which is the RIGHT-HAND lane.  This lane for pulling into traffic and pulling out of traffic, and for making right turns.


Exclamation point!

That’s it!

(Special Note:  Drivers over the age of 75 get a pass on this.  Disclaimer also applies when there are two lanes of traffic, or less.  Disclaimer also applies when traffic is heavy)

Las Vegas Road

See!  Look!  Look at this jackass in the white car (see photo above).  He’s blasting through the intersection, driving in the right-hand lane.  He nearly kills the pedestrian who is practically shitting all over himself.  Why didn’t this loser move over into the center lane.  WHY IN THE FUCK IS HE DRIVING IN THE RIGHT-HAND LANE AND NOT TURNING RIGHT!!!

The RIGHT-HAND lane is NOT the lane where you should be flooring it, whistling past cars that are driving the speed limit over in the center lane.  Worse, this is NEVER a lane you should be in when approaching an intersection where many cars are likely to be making right turns.


Think about it.  You’re about to pull up at a busy intersection — one of those with a long red-light.  But, the light suddenly turns red before you reach the crossing.  That should not matter.  After all, you are perfectly positioned in the right-hand lane.  You can make your right turn and proceed when there’s no crossing traffic.

But there’s only one problem.  Some rude jackass joker is sitting in front of you.  His right-turn blinker is not flashing.  Apparently, the prick going to fucking sit there like the selfish joker that he is and force you and the ENTIRE GODDAMNED LINE OF RIGHT-TURNING VEHICLES behind you to sit and wait with your thumbs up your asses.  So now, you have park there for perhaps 3 or 4 minutes and wait for the light to turn green again. before you can proceed.


That selfish jackass in front cost you 3 or 4 minutes.  He cost the car behind you 3 or 4 minutes, and so on and so forth — not to mention countless others with right-turn blinkers flashing, while he sits there like some clog stuck in an artery.  That’s what he is – fucking road cholesterol.  Blocking the healthy flow of car cells throughout the body of a healthy city.  Multiply all those minutes needlessly lost.  Now, multiply those minutes lost by tens of thousands of cars.  These car clots are wasting YEARS off our collective lives and causing massive traffic jams.  YEARS!  Cars that otherwise would move along onto a new street by making right turns are stuck SITTING and WAITING.

So, let me ask you a question:  Do you like sitting and waiting?  Do you like waiting in lines?  So you enjoy being stuck in traffic?  And if you do not like it, ARE YOU READY TO DO SOMETHING?

These ass jokers are ruining the planet.  All the idling cars blocked by the selfish bastards burn off more gas.  For absolutely no reason at all.  They increase emissions and add to air pollution.  They are responsible for the icebergs melting and the polar bears dying.  They waste EVERYONE’S time.  These cocksuckers are evil!  And, they must be stopped!  Now!

It’s time for action.

Which brings up my proposed countermeasure.  Now, when you pull up to an intersection, THIS should be your course of action:


(1)  First, if some clod is blocking the right-turn lane, after you have been forced to sit needlessly for several minutes, just as the light finally turns green and the joker moves ahead, BLAST YOUR HORN.  I did not say “tap” the horn.  I mean give it a lay-it-down-the-buck-stops-here blow-it-out-your-ass BLAST that causes major irritation.

(2)  Next, FLASH your headlights repeatedly – day or night — it doesn’t matter.  When the most certainly sees this fracas in his rear-view mirror, next you will give him the royal topping.

(3)  Make sure driver’s window is rolled down at all times.  Extend your right arm outside of window.  Extend middle finger.  Violently move hand and then arm upwards, as though gutting a fish.  Whoooosh!

(4)  OPTIONAL:  Add a few colorful words for the full effect.  Go ahead — let it all out!  The jackass deserves it!

As you might imagine, when I do this, driving becomes grand theater.  It’s damn near a roadway opera.  My wife often slinks down in the seat when I follow my four-step ritual.  I admit, she has some valid concerns.  She fears some nut is going to pull out a gun and start blasting away – which is entirely the point as to why you must make sure the car you are targeting is actually PASSING AHEAD though the intersection well ahead and can’t possibly catch you as you make your right-hand turn.  In fact, I recommend flooring it after you have performed the ritual just in case he has some kind of weapon.

So, here’s my repeated warning.  If you choose to drive in the right-hand lane through intersections and rudely zip past pedestrians and cyclists like me, you are now MY target.  Bulls-eye.

YOU are the problem.  YOU create traffic jams.  YOU waste everyone’s time.  And, because YOU to too fucking stupid and selfish to do what’s logical, YOU need to be taught a lesson.

If I ever get rich, I’m going to go out and buy a lot full of bulldozers.  I will hire a fleet of drivers.  And, I will command them to do one thing – PATROL THE STREETS.

All cars that are blocking right-hand turn lanes would be given a shove from one of my powerful bulldozers.  The bulldozer patrol would be entrusted with keeping all of our city streets clear.  Countless wasted hours would be restored to thousands of lives and all would be right with the universe.

That’s right, now it’s war!  We are going to get rid of the roadway cholesterol scum.  And I’m going to be a giant dose of Lipitor.

Running in The Lakes




  1. REPLY: I moderate NOTHING. I’ll post anything (except spam). Reason this process is necessary is to keep away spammers. They will not find a home here.
    — Nolan Dalla

  2. Great post Nolan. It reminds me of the three-point plan my sister taught me when I started driving in Manhattan and, later, in college in Boston (a city where turn signals are used as post-scripts and merging is best done by aiming at the most expensive car in your immediate vicinity).

    When some jackass did something stupid, like cut you off or block an intersection, you would respond by laying on the horn, giving them a middle-finger salute, and stomping on the gas to get away before they exploded in a state of road rage. By the end of my college days, my technique was so well known by my friends that I’d hit the horn and middle fingers would fly from every window of my car.

  3. Nolan, In the last pic look where you are. Out in the middle of the fucking road. Move the fuck over to the side or better yet, use the sidewalk or a running path/bike path. How about the track?

    You runners and bikers are a royal pain in the ass using the road that was meant for automobiles, for your own health club.


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