How long can a gyre in the middle of the intersection last? A chunk of firewood sat in the middle of the intersection for six months before someone finally stopped and removed it. It sort of swirled around and around, but never moved, like a patch of stagnant water or air. I saw it twice a day for months and the log sat there, despite it being the crossing of a major road and a state highway. Sand joined the log in winter, forming a little pale swirl in the middle of the road, but never went anywhere until early April, when the log and its surrounding detritus disappeared. The debris from a minor wreck have taken their place.
What percentage of cars have turn-signals that have never worked? And why do so many cease functioning when the front wheels enter a parking lot?
What inspires people to race along the side of a traffic land, passing everyone, and then cutting in front of the lead car, only to slow to ten below the limit? And staying there, in the land, at that speed, until the next major intersection (half a mile in some cases). Is it a form of status display, like different birds that try to fluff larger and larger? Is it an attempt to get pole-position for the red light? Do they think that if you go ten over, then ten under, you can’t get a ticket because it averages out?
Will we ever run out of new ways to break traffic laws and startle other drivers? Is this Nature’s way of thinning the gene pool and ensuring that the bulk of the population stays alert and wary, sort of like lions and cheetahs serving as the gym teachers for wildebeest and other grazers? In the past month I’ve seen: people stop at a red light, let two cars turn left with the green arrow, then zoom through the red while the turn arrow is still green and continue on their way; people stop at an interstate overpass, look both ways, jump the first light, cut off a slower sedan and jump a second light, and then dart up part of the median to get onto the Interstate; a large pick-up use the left-turn lane in the center of a major road as a passing lane. And then there’s the little red sports-car with US Army vanity tags that was doing at least 65 in a 50 while I was going 55 and passed me on the wrong side. Talk about living down to the stereotype of little red sports-cars.
Not to mention people driving the wrong way in a school parking lot despite the arrows on the pavement and the frantic honking and waving of the people trying not to be run over. But we won’t mention that.