I very much dislike drivers in front of me stopped at left turn signals who are slow to proceed into the forward turn after the light turns green. Many of these drivers take quite a long time to proceed forward, even when fellow automobile divers, including, at times, me, beep their horns at them. These drivers draw my ire. Furthermore, I anticipate and charge any of you so-called Dopers who whine or complain about this pitting, or simply remain suspiciously silent on the subject, are yourselves left-turn signal laggers. I don’t like you either.
The mind-set of these lagging left turners is this: Heck, I know I have enough time to get my left turn completed before the light turns red, and I really don’t care if anyone behind me gets to do the same, so why don’t I just wait a while and proceed at my slow-poke leisure. Hmm, maybe I’ll talk on my phone a little longer, or look at my ugly puss in the mirror, or pick my nose, or adjust my tiny testicles around in my shorts for a spell—I’m just not in any dad-gum rush.
It never fails, it’s always me who ends up being the first driver not able to make the light and has to wait another 2 hours (or so it seems) before the traffic light once again cycles to green. The driver just ahead of me always ends up having to gun a stale yellow, therefore, he (she…or it) does, barely, make the light. But, if I try (and I have) to tailgate the yellow-gunner around the turn, I’ll be the one caught mid-turn in the red, thus draw the ire of the billy-club bearing patrolman who always seems to be concealed from my view and looking at me, on the very few times that I break some stupid traffic law.
Every once in a while, the first driver in the left-turn lane is only somewhat laggish (perhaps he only needs to pick one nostril), and I think to myself, “hey Tibs, maybe this is your lucky day; you may actually have a chance to make this light!” But, noooo, when that happens, one of the other drivers in front of me…usually the bozo directly in front of me, decides to lag and I end up in the exact same situation (i.e., holding my chubby 9-incher at the red light).
It’s become a game of mine to guess what these left-turn laggers look like. Their appearance is, of course, a mystery to me when they are in front of my car, but I can typically get a good long look at them through their left side window as they are midway through the turn that I, thanks to them, have no chance of making.
I mean, if they look like my dearly departed 93 year old nana, I’m going to cut them some slack (aww, the poor dear is probably stricken with Alzheimer’s and can’t remember how to find her way home to bake tollhouse cookies for her adorable grand-kids. She may have run over a few pedestrians lately, but she’s a good nana).
But, that’s rarely the case and it just adds to my level of frustration when I see the actual lagger’s face, because he (she…or it) virtually always looks like the type of person you’d like to slap hard and vigorously about the face and kick squarely in the giblets. In other words, they always look like this wise-ass—even if it’s a woman.
I do not approve of vulgar or blasphemous language, so I will not engage in any of that during this pitting. And, as a pseudo-pacifist and lover of all non-ugly creatures large and small, I will not be wishing death upon my left-turn lagging nemeses.
I would, however, like to enter a large meat cooler where all of the laggers who’ve made me miss a left turn green light have been hung high on meat hooks. If any of you Dopers would like to help me in this endeavor, remember, you can usually pierce the skin and hook under the left clavicle, keeping the carcass viable and the brain conscious, so long as you avoid nicking the subclavian vein and artery. Then, I’d like just 45 minutes alone in there with my Craftsman electric drill and a 1/8" cobalt steel taper drill bit.