Following Directions

According to an article in a Psycology magazine I read a couple weeks ago, breaking the rules is actually healthy for people. It caused a small adrenaline rush, which, in moderation, is healthy for the mind and body. When reading this, I was reminded of a time that I broke the law. It was a very small, innocent act, but it was also very obvious and wrong.

I was heading home from a church council meeting one Tuesday, when I realized my horrible luck. I was stopped by a red light on Center Point Road. This road is perpindicular to highway 100, which I was currently sitting under. I knew from paast experience that it is near impossible to turn left at the light I was currently at and make it in time for the next lights. It is always a situation that you can see the green light turn red right before your hopeless eyes. This is often uncommon anymore, because many lights switch based on motion sensors telling it that a car had pulled up to the light. These lights, however, are older.

So I turned left. I decided not to try to hit 70 on this sort-of on ramp, so that I could maybe make the light, and, as a side effect, get some major air from the bump at the intersection. I coasted to the line that made me lose my driving test by one point. After what seemed like 2 minutes, I looked around. There was nobody behind me. I looked right, nobody coming for their green light. I didn't have to look anywhere else to see if I was alone, because those were one way streets, but I looked anyways. Since it was dark, I had my lights on. It would be obvious to anyone who merely glances in my direction that I am running a red light. But the only people around were passing by above me at 60 miles per hour or below me at 70. Even if they managed to see me, and if they even cared that someone was running a red light, though it was totally safe for everyone around, they wouldn't have been able to do anything about it. So I took a last glance in my rear view mirror, and see the absence of lights, pushed on the gas pedal. This took me to another light maybe 30 feet away. It is always lagging behind the first one by a couple seconds. I decided to quick make a break for it, and alas, I was free from the grasp of the overprotective stoplight, which ceased to turn green until I had run its red light. I go on the highway, stuck my arm out the window and let my new criminal self go free.

This reminds me of the essay by Ralph Ellison called "On Being the Target of Discrimination". Ralph says that as a child, he would often slide down the fire escape slides. He found it to be a very fun endeavour that was worth the consiquences. His consiquences were not very high, so almost any fun that he could find was worth trying.

Later in the psycology magazine, it asked how I felt after breaking the rule I broke. Did you get caught? If so, was it worth it? If not, what would've the consequences been? The consequences for running a red light is higher than the small thrill I got from the law breaking. I thought about that at the time, though. I suppose that I ran the light because both I had a low chance for getting caught, and I thought that the light was wrong; it should have been blinking red. Obviously this wasn't too big of a deal, but I still feel proud of myself for not being patient, and for not waiting that extra minute.