Two weeks in, and here’s revelation number two: Americans love signs.
They’re everywhere. Information, directions, guidance, rules…just driving down the street is a literary experience. And in most cases, the signs are fairly ridiculous. Here’s a few I’ve seen.
They come in strange shapes and large sizes. $336 and $281. Whose job is it to invent these random numbers? More to the point, why are people violating red lights? I blame that bloody Shades of Grey book.
No parking this side. Of the street? Or this side of the sign? I’d love to test this one out and contest any ensuing fine by calling into question their ambiguous language. But I’m living in California these days, so there are better things to do with my time – like write about it, instead.
The most pointless sign I’ve seen. Surely if you’re a cyclist and you’re going the wrong way, you’ll know it when you’re flying headfirst through the windscreen of an oncoming truck?
California is beautiful, but there’s always trouble in paradise. In the South Bay you’re never far away from mountain lions, bobcats, and these dangerous sons-of-bitches. Park at your peril.
I tell you what Mr Sign Writer, when you can be arsed to punctuate the message, maybe then I’ll cross the street.
Ouch. This is 2015. We don’t call them slow nowadays – they’re “academically challenged”.
It’s a rite of passage that a kid learns to smoke in the park. How’s a child supposed to rebel these days? Killjoys.
Impressive attention to detail. Rules for the dog, and for the owner too. If this was the UK, there’d be a steaming turd right beneath the sign.
The longer I’m here, the more I’ll see and add to this collection. Unless I’m too busy violating lights, of course.