I take stoplights personally.
Not so much signs for stopping, that seems more like taking turns.
And I’m all for that.
Stoplights, however, are a different matter. They see me from afar, patently determined to get from point A to point B or C or even D, and they patently time their colorful little selves to flip to red just as I approach.
A cautious driver, and nearly always lawful….nearly….I’ll admit I’m not above splashing through a yellow, just to make a point.
I know that’s wrong, and I vow to explain it to the officer who questions my motives. But truly, that outsized giant red eye atop the triad of color searches the horizon for me, heckbent on causing me to pause in my quest for destination.
Is it a technology issue? Is it programmed to do a personal retinal scan on upcoming drivers until it sees the one, the ME approaching?
It happens far too regularly to be happenstance….stop and wait. Stop and wait. No one coming in any direction left, right, up or down. And so I sit. And I fume. And I glare at that scarlet orb. But I sit.
I’ve come to a conclusion, using all that time I’ve been given.
That programmer? That all-seeing, all-powerful perceptor, lying in wait for me at near every four-way or five-way intersection including those with left turn lane signals, merge lanes and entitled bikers in bike lanes?
Oh yeah….that would be my mother-in-law….or my second-grade teacher.
And I know I’ve been beaten.