We just completed the fall 2022 edition of our Bi-annual Bi-coastal Grandkids Tour. Typically, we drive to the East Coast and fly to the West Coast. This time, we decided to drive to California, something we’ve done before and which, for a variety of reasons, seemed to make sense this time. Technically, I can claim to have driven coast-to-coast but with a three-week layover in Indiana.
While that might not count as a legitimate entry in the Cannonball Run, Grandparents Division, we did manage to dine both at Grandma’s Diner in Iowa and Mom’s Café in Utah (and, yes, I have t-shirts from both fine dining establishments). Both Grandma’s and Mom’s were discovered from reading signs along the highway, which can be a risky proposition since both names can evoke down-home goodness while serving greasy road-side glop. Not the case here. The exalted names of Mom and Grandma are honored by the quality of fare at both establishments.
Reading road signs can become an obsession on long journeys, especially if you’re becoming desperate for “rest” and no rooms or stops for “resting” can be found. Some states have these sadistic stops for cell phone calls and texting that offer no “rest.” Diabolical.
Reading roadside signs can also be a kind of a one-sided cosmic conversation, like a message in a bottle, like the ape considering the monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey. A simple roadside sign can suddenly spark a furious internal debate: “Just what do they mean by that?”
It hardly bears mentioning the urgent “Exit NOW!” sign which concludes the advertising you’ve been scanning the last twenty miles, and which is only visible after you’ve passed the exit. No, I mean signs that have the power to worm their way into your sub-conscious with their inscrutable phrasing and obscure meaning.
It starts before you’ve even begun your journey with “Objects in mirror are closer than they appear” etched into the right side-view mirror. I have always found this phrasing to be odd while, at the same time, perfectly suitable for its message. It is common usage to say we see things “in the mirror” when we refer to objects that aren’t “in the mirror” at all. “The semi-trailer truck you see in your rearview mirror is much closer to killing you and your family than its reflected image suggests” may be more accurate but would require a much larger mirror. Since this admonition has been around long enough to be a non-sequitur, I can live with it. Begrudgingly.
Most highway warning and information signs provided by a state’s highway administration fall into this “common usage” category. You’d do well to grasp the meaning of “Bridge Ices Before Road” or “Bridge Freezes Before Road Surface” well in advance of experiencing its effect. I’ve never altered my driving practice based on “Danger Overhead Power Lines” but feel confident that people who need to know this are grateful. I particularly appreciate states that post “Left Lane For Passing Only” and “Do Not Impede Left Lane” signs and would like to see it enforced on I-65 between Indianapolis and Chicago, thank you very much.
We can always tell when the “lake people” are back in our little town for the summer when you notice cars making left turns from the right lane on a one-way street. I’m not sure what kind of sign it would take to prevent this, especially since the cars parked along both curbs are facing the same direction. Can a large arrow labeled “One Way” be improved upon for clarity?
When it comes to warnings and traffic control protocols regarding highway construction, I think Pennsylvania does a good job, at least in the Pennsylvania Wilds. You typically get a “heads up” message, followed later by a “don’t forget” sign and capped off with “well, it’s happening just like we told you.” On the other hand, some states don’t bother to remove the speed limit reduction signs until long after the construction has concluded. To be fair, most of that kind of thing happens along highways in the absolute dead-center of nowhere where reductions in speed are wishful thinking, at best. There are some states that change the speed limit every few miles in an obvious ploy to create a revenue stream funded by unwary out-of-state drivers (“New York state of mind”). In stark counterpoint, the states that have an 80mph speed limit along interstates are enlightened utopias of civic virtue. You know who you are and have my undying admiration.
However, there are some traffic signs I’ve observed that leave me in a state of uncertainty. “Hitchhikers may be escaped prisoners” is one such sign. These signs are predictably found along stretches of highway that are in close proximity to correctional facilities. However, if you weren’t aware of such a facility being nearby you might be alarmed by this new information. While it’s a true statement that they “may” be escaped prisoners the mind races ahead to the likelihood that all hitchhikers everywhere “very well could be” or even “almost certainly are” escaped prisoners. It can alter your interpretation of “Left Lane For Passing Only” signs if you happen upon a driver changing a flat tire by the side of the road. You’re taking evasive action into that left lane even before the hitchhiker’s thumb comes up. You might well be checking your rearview mirror and wondering if that escaped convict is closer than he appears.
The prize for the most meditative, philosophical, mind-expanding information sign along a major highway is one I’ve seen a few times in New Mexico. It has a haiku-like pithiness, every syllable chosen to promote existential mindfulness. It is a road-side Zen koan that baffles objective thinking while stating a simple fact: “Gusty Winds May Exist.”
My personal experience is that gusty winds do, in fact, exist but this sign planted a seed of doubt. How can I be certain? If they may exist then they also may not exist, just like those hitchhiking escaped axe-murderers that are closer than you think. Were those gusty winds I experienced as a boy in Oklahoma that blew over trees and stripped roofs from houses just my imagination? Is gusty wind in New Mexico in some kind of quantum state, both existing and not existing at the same time until someone observes it? It’s a lot to think about. To remove all uncertainty, I recommend that New Mexico install “weather rocks” along I-40. Simple and objective. Build more “rest” stops and add them to reduce existential angst and improve the overall travel experience. Oh, and go ahead and bump up the speed limit while you’re at it. At 75mph you’re almost there.
What Then? 
