Sometimes I drive in the slow lane. When I do, I don't watch the speedometer. I just roll along at whatever speed traffic is moving — specifically, however fast the car in front of me is going. I don't have to worry about changing lanes or getting over before the exit, because I'm already there. I still try to be aware of what's going on all around me, but I don't try to make things happen. I go with the flow.
When I'm in the fast lane, I'm so alert you can see sparks fly off me. I try to stay out of the way of the rabbits coming up behind me, and I get impatient with the tortoises stumbling and bumbling ahead of me. I'm always aware that someone could make a move that would change the way traffic is flowing, and I try to be ready for whatever might happen. If I'm going to be there anyway, I want to be going as fast as I can (legally, of course).
I mean, why would you get in the fast lane at all unless you want to go fast? I've spend an awful lot of time in the fast lane throughout my 38 years of driving, and I feel I have a proprietary right to articulate some of the de facto rules. The main one being, get out of my way. Please.
On the other hand, in the non-driving segment of my life, I'm mainly a slow lane person. I wait for things to happen, and I like it when I don't have to be the spearhead (or the ramrod, for that matter) of any major undertakings. You can set the speed and I'll go along with it. I'll gladly leave the fast lane to people who are in a big hurry to get somewhere. I have a feeling I'm getting somewhere, too, but I'll arrive a little later. I might miss the first pitch, but I'll be there for the walkoff homer.