The Inner Monologue

Ah, the modern traffic intersection—where civil engineers apparently decided that the average driver’s competence rivals that of a NASA pilot. Gone are the days of simple left turns and orderly right-of-way. Now, we must navigate labyrinths of dashed lines, sudden lane shifts, and the ever-popular “Wait, why am I driving on the wrong side of the road?” panic moment.

Let’s be clear: traffic circles, four-way stops, and even the occasionally maligned cloverleaf have been around for decades. They’re not perfect, but at least they follow some basic rules of physics and human instinct. You approach, you yield (or don’t, if you’re feeling spicy), and you exit. Simple. Predictable. Survivable.

But no. Somewhere, in a dimly lit conference room, a team of over-caffeinated engineers decided that what we really needed was an intersection that looks like a toddler’s crayon sketch of spaghetti. Suddenly, my lane crosses the center line and forces me to play a high-stakes game of chicken with oncoming traffic—all because some study maybe suggested a 3% reduction in wait times during off-peak hours on alternate Thursdays.

Here’s a radical idea: If an intersection requires a 45-minute public service announcement and three near-misses before drivers figure it out, maybe it’s a bad design.

I get it. Innovation is important. Somewhere out there, a visionary is drafting their thesis on the “Double-Back Flying Stopover Interchange,” complete with helical ramps and interpretive dance signals. That’s great. Publish it. Win awards. But for the love of all that is holy, do not build it.

We are not lab rats. We are not autonomous vehicles (yet). We are sleep-deprived, coffee-fueled mortals just trying to get to work without playing Frogger in real life. So please, traffic planners, do us all a favor: Keep it simple. Keep it sane. And for the love of asphalt, stop making me question which side of the road I’m supposed to be on.

Because if I wanted to drive in Britain, I’d at least like the courtesy of a proper pint afterward.