There’s this glorious thing called a Dream Run™, where you manage to coast through a bunch of successive traffic lights and it stays green the whole time. None of that stop/start business. It’s smooth and fluid and uninterrupted by crimson or crumbly dames in Toyota Crowns.
To get to the gym or work or Macca’s (the Sundae Run) we have to cruise through four sets of lights. Inevitably when it’s 8.59 on a Monday morning you’re going to get all the red lights. Nightmare Run. But sometimes you’re lucky, and your chances of success are increased if you start chanting “Dreamrundreamrundreamruuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnn!”. Even more effective if your passengers chant too.
It’s timing, it’s skill on the gas pedal, it’s pure luck, it’s “amber means speed up”, it’s “I wonder if there’s a red light camera on this intersection?”. When it all comes together it’s poetry, exhilaration and madly cackling into the night, “AAAAAAAaaaaaaahahahhahah DREAM RUN, BABY!”.
Let’s not forget the Ultimate Dream Run. That is when you can come off the Big Mother Roundabout at the top of Northbourne Avenue and manage to cruise down to the very end of it (it’s a few kilometres, I think) without a single red light. In peak hour. That’s right, PEAK HOUR. Galumphing along on a Sunday afternoon or in the middle of the night doesn’t count. Bonus points if it’s a Friday. At the start of a long weekend.
If you can do pull off the Ultimate Dream Run, you know you’ll have fabulous sex tonight, or win some money, or your boss will be eaten by aliens. It’s that good.
Needless to say, I’ve never made it. But I came ohhhh so close. Heading out to see the folks after a crappy week at work, we were sailing through in a sparkly shower of green. It was a miracle! The last intersection was beckoning.
“Dream ruuuuuuuuuuuuuuun!” we croaked. “Dream ruuuuuuuuuun!”
The light blinked into amber.
“Bugger!” I screamed.
“Don’t worry! There’s still time!” cheered Rhiannon. “It’s a hoon in that Gemini in front, there’s no way they’ll stop on an orange!”
But they did stop. Fortunately, my brakes are good. Turns out it was a little old lady in the Gemini.