|I find myself getting irrationally angry at people driving in or around my area when said people are not from my area. Part of it stems from how different cultures drive. My home state of New Jersey tends to breed aggressive drivers, while neighboring states tend to breed the exact opposite. Similarly, state laws sometimes differ in whether the left lane of a two- or three-lane highway is strictly for passing or not. My opinion is that if you're in the left lane and someone is behind you, move.
Related to this is the fact that I mostly use local roads to commute to and from work, which I do every day of my life. It's a routine. I know the speed limits. I know the stop signs and traffic lights. I know when I need to turn and when someone in front of me is going to turn. A non-local driver typically doesn't know where they're going or what they're looking for. This used to happen to me all the time when my road was the seventh left in my neighborhood. I'd get stuck behind someone who clearly wasn't local, and I'd see them pump their brakes at every single intersection. In that sense, a non-local driver is just an obstacle between me and my home.
Another thing, especially across state lines and near tourist attractions, is the matter of money. I live here. I pay high taxes, and part of what helps me maintain my sanity is the thought that my taxes go towards paying for the roads I use. I don't really like the idea of some freeloader using something I paid for, especially when that freeloader is a bad driver. I realize that many non-local drivers work where they're driving, and so their employer likely pays local taxes. Regardless, my feelings are the same.
But I think the main thing that gets to me is the idea of any one road being a through-street from one location to another. I grew up on a through-street, and my entire goal in life has been to live on a non-through-street (mission accomplished, by the way). But for whatever reason, it just really bothered me that someone would drive their vehicle, with their loud engines and creaky suspensions, blasting their music and throwing their trash out the window, in the location where I lived and ate and slept. It didn't help that our house was really close to the road. It sort of felt like the street was part of our property, and it sort of was since we shared a fairly long border. Having unwanted people invading my borders was a real source of anguish. #travel