You never see the limpet coming. You just become aware of his presence. Limpets are found on motorways, usually quite quiet ones where the natural ebb and flow of traffic does not impede their operation. You’re not going fast, in fact you’re probably going quite slowly, inside lane, minding your own business, doing your own thing.
Then you spot the limpet. Of course you don’t yet know it’s a limpet, but something about the language of the car raises your suspicions. It is, for example, always too close. Not mirror-filling, exhaust-sniffing close, but close enough that were something in front of you to start pinging off the barriers and you needed to stop in a hurry, you’d need to look both ahead and behind to make sure you weren’t about to have one accident trying to avoid another.
But even if there’s no danger, the limpet has already interfered with the personal space we all like to preserve ahead of and behind our cars. He’s taking your mind off your driving, and in his own insidious way, spoiling your journey. So what do you do?
You decide to get rid of the limpet. Now you could go streaking off into the distance but that would not only be illegal, it would simply invite the limpet to rejoin you once you’ve returned to a normal speed. Instead you slow down. You do not, of course, brake test the limpet. My most limpet-friendly car is the BMW i8 it is my happy lot to be tooling around in at the moment, and that has cruise control that allows you to drop your speed in single mile per hour increments. So you slow; and so too does the limpet. Sometimes the limpet will eventually overtake only to slow again, rarely does it get rid of the limpet for good. And quite often the limpet simply slows with you until you’re both travelling at the same speed as the lorries.