… that when you drive up to an intersection, the second you do, for that brief moment, the coast is clear? But if you wait, then you wait for a very long time?
I’ve wondered about this for years, and I’ve decided I can either take this as some sort of cosmic prod to just dive in, take the risk, seize the opportunity, or else that I’m part of a vast collection of moving pieces being jostled on a grand scale, maintaining a relative distance to every other piece on the board. I like the first explanation better, at least in that one I feel as if I’m master of my fate. In the second I’m just a plastic game piece plinking around on a large piece of cardboard.
Or maybe I’m just insane. But I’ve been quietly cataloging this phenomenon for several years now, and it never fails. Ever. Ever.
That’s extremely weird, don’t you think? Seems quite odd to me, and strangely comforting.
Every time I approach an intersection to turn left, for approximately 3-4 seconds, I have an open road to my left. But should I hesitate even a little, then a line of cars rapidly forms, and I must wait for at least 30 seconds. And that also never changes.
I realize that that last bit is likely because most traffic lights are synced, so there’s a good explanation for that.
But none whatsoever for the first bit.