One day, looking out over a major shopping mall’s parking lot from several stories up, I noticed a curious thing:
Where to? (Photo credit: Lori Greig)
Maybe one in twenty (“twenty’s” as good as any number; pick ten or a thousand) drivers actually used their directional indicators to signal they were making any turns.
You have got to be kidding me.
I watched people exiting other parking lots in the area—same thing.
Of course, one can clearly see this on the road. You’re toolin’ along all nice and pretty like, windows and moon roof open, radio blasting, singing along to your guilty pleasure Rhianna tune (We found lovvvve in a hooopeless placcce….), when—out of nowhere—another vehicle is suddenly two-feet in front of you.
You utter your favorite expletive and associated hand gestures, are unceremoniously yanked out of your Rhianna Zone, and reach for your M20a1B1 Super-bazooka, only to suddenly realize it’s in “the shop” for maintenance.
WTF, you cry?
Why-the-alphabet-soup is it that one of the simplest, least-energy-sucking moves a human can make are not routinely performed? I mean, I see big bruiser dudes in Super Duty four-bys, tatts covering their tree-trunk arms, not flip that little wand on the steering column as they whip their testosterone-laden tanks out onto streets.
Does it take that much energy? Do they really need to save it up for their MMA cage fight that evening? Or, are, they, too, in their own, private “Rhianna Zone,” and simply forgot?
Well, I recently came into another reason for why this phenomena is so prevalent. I’d never considered this one, but it would certainly explain the rampant exhibition on today’s byways. It’s because of all the turns we make out there on the road, and the stock reservoirs simply are not large enough.
They’re all out of signal fluid.
A cop told me I didn’t leave my turn signal on long enough.
I replied “How many people don’t use them at all?”
He let me off the hook.
Good Looord, man, GUTSY! :-]]]
Actual answers to the immortal question
“Do you know how fast you were going?”
“Fast enough, apparently… (turns head to glance at police car)”
“No, I don’t, I was too busy slamming on my brakes when I saw you.”
“Yes, I know exactly how fast I was going.”
About half a lifetime ago, I was stopped in the middle of the night by a State Trooper in Arizona. After “license and registration,” he began unloading on me about how bad his life was, everything from a divorce to losing his dog, if I remember it right. there was a pause in the conversation, then he handed me back my documentation, and let me go without a ticket. I thanked him, and wished the man better luck. Often wonder how he’s doing these days.
Irritates me too, especially when someone will change lanes and dart in front, or is coming from a perpendicular street and doesn’t signal so I have to wait and see it before going out. I thought you might end up connecting this to writing…hey… a book with not foretelling or a story that may have an ending that surprises yet wasn’t inevitable based on the early signals!
Ah…so I kept you on your toes and did…the unexpected.
That WAS my evil plan! ;-]