There'll Be Another In Just Thirty Seconds

Another MVA, as the cops call it, over at the corner of North Main and West Jackson Streets. People going east on Jackson Street will squeeze the last ounce out of a yellow light, as will people going on Main Street.

Thump. Not screech, crash, bang, explosion, fire as in the movies. Just thump.

You'd think they were looking at The Last Green Light In The World. There will never be another one; they will never see their kids grow up and get married. Run the yellow, even though if it's been a slight shade of red for the last twenty-five feet. You gotta get where you're going because... =thump=.

Sheeeet.

I haven't timed many lights, but I think you can figure most simple intersections deal the cards about every thirty seconds. Complex meeting places are a bit different. Still, the green eye on the bottom of the PennDOT totem pole will stare at you in a reasonable amount of time.

Maybe it's old age; maybe it's being mellow. It could be mellow about the yellow, but I don't squeeze the lemon traffic light. If I can make it, fine; if it's going to turn red before I get there, I'll wait for the green rather than wait for the tow truck.

Hey, for another thirty seconds…