An open letter to the guy in the white van

Dear sir,

I realize that you have places to be; we all have places to be, and we'd all prefer not to be stuck in this construction-zone traffic jam.  Perhaps you didn't notice that everyone had chosen to drive only in the left lane, since the right lane will be closed in half a mile.  Perhaps this is the first time you've driven this stretch of road in the past month, and were unaware of the closure.  Something tells me, however, that you knew something was amiss when people began to honk their horns at you as you flew past them in an effort to avoid waiting four minutes.  I wished with my whole body that no one would let you in.  I try to avoid the cost of getting angry over petty driving arrogance, but this was probably the twentieth time I've seen someone try this move.  I've imaginarily patted-on-the-back the brave souls who move their vehicles to the center of the two lanes, in an effort to block the type of behavior you exhibited today.  I wish I had thought of doing just that when I saw you creeping up from a quarter-mile back.  And it was obvious that you thought little of the anxiety you caused as I passed you after the traffic cleared, only to see you yawn with blasé indifference.

I wish you ill will, sir -- ILL WILL!