I first encountered the blue Oldsmobile Alero about a quarter of the way along my drive in to work, in Barre. It was right in front of me going across Main Street onto Route 62 heading up the hill to the Interstate. The driver, a blonde woman I couldn't make out, seemed to be in a big hurry, soon weaving in and out of lanes and racing up to traffic lights.
Traffic was heavy in both lanes which were moving at about the same pace, but since there were more cars on the left, she darted into the right lane and raced ahead (and I don't mean a mild racing ahead, I mean a Smokey and the Bandit racing ahead) the half-dozen car-lengths until she was stopped again, then put on her left turn signal. No one let her in, and she stayed that way five minutes until she ended up two cars behind me before she could finally get over.
Farther up the hill she passed me again by weaving lanes, got caught by the light, and this kept repeating the whole trip.
When I finally turned onto the small road on which my office is located, she was still there... right back to where she started, right in front of me. Turns out she's one of my coworkers. I am so tempted to go ask her if all that reckless driving was worth it, to end up gaining precisely zero time.