This outrage is closer to home than the political yelling match which has consumed the country. It’s a sign. A sign of the future? I hope not.
I was out for a run.
It was one of those long ones that I never look forward to but seem to over-prepare for. This gets me out late and stuck in more heat than I like. (I’m going somewhere with this so bear with me.)
There I was at the top of an endless hill, trudging forward, and I spotted a sign. I needed to stop and suck air anyway, but the sign confused me even as it called to me.
I was perplexed. Was I merely addled by heat and exertion?
It read “no traffic signs.” An official sign I think, but I had a closer look to make sure.
Does it mean to inform us to not post any traffic signs? I’m sure no one makes the effort to post “Curves Ahead” or “Yield to Oncoming Traffic” on their stretch of roadway — as civic-minded as that may be.
Could it also mean there are no traffic signs here? Surely not. It would be self-evident by the lack of signage one might think.
This sign seems as useful as a “No Alligators” sign, a warning to miscreant reptiles that they are not wanted along this stretch of road. Alternatively, such a notice might be posted to tell us that alligators have been eliminated here. Thank goodness.
Then I imagined a fanciful map drawn by an ancient cartographer with the edges declaring “Here be no WiFi and only Folgers Coffee.” The horror.
I’m surprised DOGE hasn’t descended into our community to eliminate this obvious waste and add it to a list of governmental savings. Time will tell.
As I pondered the growing ramifications of the sign, I faux stretched my quads in case a passing car spotted me and worried I had run myself into a stupor. I looked like a guy in shorts, sweating heavily, potentially having a minor stroke, seemingly deep in worship of shiny sheet metal.
Finally, after leaving its amber glow, I still couldn’t get it out of my head.
Ultimately, might street signs be going the way of the typewriter or the mimeograph?
Not more than a few decades ago, my car had a “Thomas Guide.” That’s a really nice set of maps to you digital natives. On paper. In a book. Not a Kindle. A book book. Fiber-based media, which I would dutifully not refer to at any point in my travels. Especially when I was hopelessly lost.
Now, I seem to use my phone’s map app even when cruising to a known location. Street signs are nearly irrelevant when we get told where to turn and when, and, oops, you missed a turn but take the next left.
Maybe this sign was just prophesying that “The End is Nigh”.” Now I feel bad for mocking it.
Poor sign.
Michael Forney
Rochester
