Saturday, November 14, 2009

Risk Management?

Driving to work a week or so ago, I saw a road worker standing in the middle of a very busy intersection. He was holding the stick for a survey team.

The intersection had nine lanes on one road (Imperial Highway) and six lanes on the other (Idaho).

The hard-hatted worker had four orange cones surrounding him and his tripod.

He was attentive.

I marveled at him from my safe, red-light vantage point.

As he looked around at the 18 wheelers and assorted vehicles driving by at 50 miles an hour, he lifted his hand to his shirt pocket... pulled out a pack of cigarettes... and lit up... eyes still scanning the traffic...

"Of course he's a smoker," I thought to myself and laughed.

The cars may never get him... but the cigarettes probably will!

PS: Took a walk today at Cal State Fullerton. The next few posts will feature pictures from my November 14th walk in SoCal.


  1. Interesting observation! I see a lot of smoking road workers around here too. I would love to sit under that tree and think "poetic". It would be a nice place to "hide" from my munchkins for a while.

  2. @september: Kelly, it is fun to write about what you notice. Cal State has an arboretum that also has some great spots to sit and wax poetic. I was just glad my wife was willing to meander on our walk with the dog while I buzzed around the plants snapping pictures. She was humoring me... it was my birthday! ;-) (If you click on the tree, it's almost big enough to pretend you're sitting under it!)

  3. Nine lanes + six I've heard it all!

    I saw an older black gentleman, yesterday, who had dragged a newspaper stand into the turn lane of a very well-trafficked road in the city, then pull up a chair and sit down. As if...someone was going to cross the road and stand in a turn lane just to buy a paper.

    Things that make you go hmmmm...

  4. @Saphron: People are funny. My guess is that the man was selling from the turn lane while the other cars were stopped on their red lights. Kind of like beggars at the bottom of off-ramps. We get those around here.