The far left lane on the interstate is not for such as me, slowpoke at 65 mph. The fast lane is for the frank speeders, the fwaumm flyby of Harleys or the tornado roar of a semi.
It is also, of course, where speeders go and are spotted by the law. To slot yourself into the far-left passing lane and stay there invites the radar gun.
Like most urban interstates, our local five-lane (ours are the Inner and Outer Loops) has exits every two miles or so and connects with four other major interstates in its clock-face circle. Three lanes become two, become Exit Only; your on-ramp is now an off-ramp. Riding the right lane as a demure Slow Driver means constantly adjusting to accommodate people zeroing and zooming in on the exits. Exits are where mistakes are made, where accidents happen. Signage over a hill or curve can confuse on first glance by tricks of perspective and angle. I prefer to stay out of crowds trying to figure out, at highway speed, Where am I s'posed to be?
This leaves the far-left lane unoccupied, a clean tube, for miles at a time, even in heavy traffic. So I shift over, keep an eye on the rearview for fast-approaching Speederados, and move out of the way when I need to. Sometimes I can stay in the left lane, doing 65/60 (my speed/speed limit), for many miles without blocking any other driver. Just move out of the way and let the SUV doing its comfortable 80 mph go by.
I like the left lane. It's a notch quieter. I'm away from the lane-shifting taillight-flashing exit dance. Speeders pass me one right lane over. Grassy medians are more attractive, although the close dance with metal barriers can be unnerving if you ever think about it.
I'll get out of your way too.