Evolution of Traffic, Part II

Another generation took to the road
a couple of years ago.
Soon he'll drive away less often,
Because soon he'll be here less often.
The many college contacts filling the nooks and crannies of life prompt me to wonder:
What do I tell him--before he's just a set of tail lights--about the best ways to drive?
Really drive.
What do I say, looking back
At my first poem on the evolution
of traffic?
Is there hope even yet to pass on to one who has years of driving ahead of him?

Yes there is!
I found it this way:

I sat at a stoplight.
Only this time,
in the early morning drizzle,
I was waiting to turn right
instead of left.

Green lights, yellow, red
directed traffic across my path.
I waited...not so much from obedience this time,
It was early.
I was sleepy, is all.
Then the left-turn lane beside me
Did its business by the law of the light.
Left arrows red, green, and yellow...
Still I waited, until it hit me: this was all there was.
Straight was not an option,
And my right turnhad no arrows:
It existed completely outside the light system.
I went when I thought I should.
So I did...but much later than I needed to.
So deeply ingrained was my conditioning
to lights.

So here, I think,
Is my best advice:
Want freedom?
Want to live outside the world of governed stop's and go's?
A yielded heart is all you need.
...
"Or to go around the world to the right."
(The practical, quirky dry perspective, as given by my husband, who although he's not here right now, is ever chiming around in my head.
Recognize him?)