Something went horribly wrong with the Traffic Collective somewhere just south of Florence, S.C. around lunchtime today.
All southbound motorists apparently lost their unified groove, slowing to a crawl for miles on end without an obvious reason.
No wrecks. No state trooper wolfpacks. Just the occasional car on the
shoulder. (Some people, like one trucker I saw, treated the shoulder like a third lane. Good way to kill somebody right there.)
Every once in a while, the herd got its wind back. Inevitably, though, they stuttered and stopped all the way to the Savannah River.
Once we crossed over into Georgia, the hive mind zoomed off with renewed vigor, which begs the question: What the hell, South Carolina?