Waiting At A Temporary Traffic Light

It was 5pm and I was driving home on a drizzly Thursday evening, my windscreen wipers squeaking left to right, my eyeballs straining to stay open.

The roads were strangely quiet, and I stopped at a temporary traffic light, which just turned red.

“When red light shows wait here,” it said. So I did.

I was idling, listening to the weather report on the radio: more days of fog and drizzle and despair were ahead. Please take an umbrella and take care on the roads.

After a few minutes, with the traffic light still on red, I turned the engine off. Pulled the handbrake up. Turned the radio off to concentrate.

Sometimes if I stared at a traffic light long enough it changed. But this time, it didn’t seem to work.

There was no traffic coming ahead of me, but a car had pulled up behind. I saw in my rear view that he was getting agitated as the seconds ticked by, his mouth was moving and I was trying to read his lips. There were some rude words in there I think.

Still, no cars came from ahead. After a few minutes the driver behind me started honking his horn. I assumed at the traffic light, rather than me. He shouted up the road from his car.

“Hey buddy, do you want to just drive through?”

I leaned out the window and looked back.

“It’s on red, sir.”

I turned on my hazards and waved him round. He passed without glabcing back. I was jealous of his freedom, but also pitied his impatience.

At the 30 minute mark I called my wife, said I’d be late for dinner. However long this would take, I had to see it through to the end.

She called me stubborn, but she didn’t understand.

By around 6pm I started to grow concerned about my car battery, so I turned off the engine and heating. It was a cold night, cold and wet.

By 7pm my eyes were growing tired. The red light was making them strain even more. When I closed my eyes, just for a moment, I could still see it, shining from the under sides of my eye lids. When I opened my eyes again, it was an hour later, the light was still on red, and there was a policeman tapping on my car window.

“How you doing son?” he said.

“Not bad, thank you. How are you?”

“You’ll have to move along. Do you have somewhere to go?”

“Yes, I have a house with my wife about 10 minutes from here.”

“Well, you need to go there son. You can’t sleep here, it’s a public road.”

“Oh, I’m not trying to sleep officer. I’m trying to go home. I have some ice cream in the boot that’s melting. But the traffic light is on red and I’m waiting for it to change.”

The policeman nodded and walked off. He appreciated my respect for the law.

At 8pm I watched the sun set. I forgot how beautiful it was. The red and orange made the buildings look like they were on fire. There was some pink in there too, and it made me remember the rhyme my old mother used to recite whenever she saw pink sky.

“Pink sky at night, shepherd’s delight. Pink sky at morning, shepherd’s warning.”

Some men in hard hats and flourescent jackets passed by my car carrying some traffic cones. I don’t know where they come from, the men that is. Saying that, I don’t know where the cones came from either.

I made a note to look this up when I got home, if I ever got home. In my sight, at the red traffic light, I could see 23 of them. There could have been more but the light was fading fast.

At 9pm I needed the bathroom and found a tub in the boot to use. When I was done, I called my wife again, told her not to wait up, that I might be a while longer, and that the ice cream had gone bad.

At 10pm I turned the radio back on, listened to the Classic station. The radio DJ calmed my nerves.

“Where ever you are, whether you’re at home with a mug of tea, tucked up in bed, or still in the road, we are here for you at Classic FM.”

I appreciated that.

In my dreams everywhere I turned there were traffic lights and traffic cones. Barriers in every direction, trapped.

Then, my dreams were basked suddenly in burning amber flames, followed by a soothing green glow. It permeated through the darkness, broke in to my sleep and pulled me in to the world of the waking.

It was 5am, and the traffic light had changed.

I fumbled with the key in the ignition, clumsily put the car in gear. I wondered if I still remembered how to do this. Serious doubt crossed my mind. How long had it been? How could I command a two tonne lump of metal in to motion, little old me?

But I did, somehow. The engine rumbled. The sound was like the waking roar of a lion, and the world around me started moving in whatever direction I demanded.

I looked back, saw the traffic light fade in to distance, and looked forward as the sun started to rise.

Pink sky in the morning, shepherds warning.

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