Crossing. Signalling.

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Last Monday was Towel Day.

Towel day is an informal memorial — a modest celebration of the life,
works and legacy of an English writer, humorist and observer of the
human condition. It’s observed (if that’s even the right word) only by
nerds. (And not all nerds. Just a specific kind of nerd. Possibly
of a certain age.) I did not have my towel with me on Monday which is
proof positive (not that any was really needed) that I am not a hoopy
frood. I was out running some errands and after putting the car back
where I found it (I hadn’t stolen it. Honest.) I was walking home when
I approached an intersection near my house. (It wasn’t the corner I
mentioned two years ago, but close.)

There were no traffic lights (there was a stop sign — a four-way stop
sign, one of the enduring monuments to the city’s ongoing resentment
of traffic flow. But this isn’t meant to be a rant.). There was no
crossing guard. There were no pedestrians. There were no cars, no
bicycles, no vechicles-whose-very-existence-relies-on-their-
ability-to-avoid-classification. No one.

Strike that. There was a bicycle. (And me of course, but that kind of
goes without saying. But I was half a block away, far enough that I
would claim not to have affected the event to any significant
degree. I think.)

He (the cyclist) was headed south. Somewhat unusual for unobserved
bicycles in these parts (Ubi non accusator, ibi non judex), he
actually stopped at the stop sign. Even more unbelievable, he actually
signalled his intentions. Up went his hand to tell all and sundry
(ie. me — I’m as sundry as they come) he was going to make a right
turn.

“Well, that’s nice” I thought. “Totally unnecessary of course, but
nice. People should get in the habit of announcing their
intentions. It makes life easier for other people when they know what
to expect.”

Then he turned left.

Bop Ad was right — even when they’re trying to do the right thing,
people are a problem.

 

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The Author

Rose Glace is the pseudonym of nobody important.

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