Sunday musings

The roads are quiet at 7:00 am on a Sunday. For over three years now I've gotten up between 6 and 6:30 on Sundays to help set up for church. Although I'm fully awake by the time I get in my car, tongue in cheek I imagine that I could make the drive in my sleep.

As always, I turned down one road that is both pretty and hazardous. On one side is a sort of green belt area that winds behind a shopping center, and on the other is a stretch of untouched nature. It's common for deer to wander across the road so drivers have to be wary. At the same time, there's never much traffic so it's easy to zip along without thinking of being cautious. However I've seen enough police cars patrolling the street, parked unexpectedly around various bends, to be mindful of it.

That day there was no police car, but there was a scanner attached to the speed limit sign. As I drove closer, the scanner blinks and sputters to life. Like some animal that was sleeping beside the road, it awoke and stared me down. Wordlessly it condemned me for going a few miles above the limit, warning me that I should be careful, should obey its desires, its silent commands, or else. I drove by, imagining that as I disappeared from sight the scanner's lights grew dim: the animal falls asleep once more, waiting to be startled to life by some other prey. It may seem fierce for a moment, but in actuality is harmless, even docile. A growling bulldog without teeth, tethered securely.

The next time I drove that way the scanner had been removed. I was almost sad. The blinking, sputtering beast could have become a tame little friend. A greeting and warning all in one. A lone patrol of the street, perhaps stared at quizzically by passing deer. Instead it was removed to some other location, some other street. It's true that I have seen it as an annoyance, plenty of times. But after all, it's only a piece of equipment. It will be moved around from street to street, a nomad without a choice. Blinking at other cars on other Sunday morning roads.