rewind signpost up ahead

The Five Man Electrical Band (and later Tesla) made the positives and negatives of signs abundantly clear in their 1970 anthem, aptly titled "Signs."

In our quest for order and info, we are literally surrounded by signs. Everywhere we go, there they are: signs. This becomes especially evident when entering America's highways and byways. Highway signs tell us everything, from where to go to the bathroom to where we can find the nearest Pizza Hut.

When we see this familiar sign it means the hazard of a hoofed mammal leaping in front of our internal combustion engine-powered vehicle is a strong possibility. The illustrator who created this sign chose the noble profile of an eight point, white-tailed (presumably) buck bounding proudly through its surroundings.

What the creator didn't consider is that rarely does a male deer of this stature (or profile) decide to risk blunt force trauma and leap out in front of minivans and mid-sized sedans on the back roads of America. But an antler-less deer crossing sign just wouldn't be as compelling or believable and could serve to cause confusion: "Look honey, we're in a llama crossing zone."

This sign also appeals to the masculine machismo that believes that all deer should look like they belong on the cover of a magazine. White-tailed bucks haven't evolved much over the past 40 years and from traveling America's roadways, apparently, neither have snowmobiles...

Take for example this beacon. What are we to understand when driving down a thoroughfare and we see this?

The trivial observer simply concludes that snowmobiles could potentially cross the road ahead, but there is a deeper, more arcane meaning in this sign.

First, the creator assumed that all snowmobilers rode a 1969 Massey-Ferguson Ski-Whiz. Next we notice the apparel. Throwing caution to the wind, this rider, we'll call him "Bud," has apparently chosen to forego the protection of an appropriate DOT-approved helmet and has instead selected a functional cap.

What we are left to surmise is the kind of cap. A fertile mind might envision a black, fitted Chicago White Sox lid worn "gangsta" style (turned 5-10 degrees off center with no curvature to the brim). However, Bud likely wears a cap of an all wool construction, probably a red and black plaid variety with earflaps and a little round bronze medal, dead center of the forehead, representing nothing.

What's most fascinating about this sign is what we don't readily see. For example, the probability that Bud's jacket exactly matches the aforementioned cap is remarkably high.

Assuming Bud is wearing gloves, it is plausible the gloves are crafted from buckskin (perhaps from the buck crossing the road earlier) and were purchased from a spinning metal rack in a Cenex gas station for $10. There also is an outside chance the snow flap on this machine has an illustration of Yosemite Sam and the words "Back-Off!" emblazoned across the bottom.

Improvements? Well, if I could be so bold, since the artist left out a helmet and eye protection, indicating a leisurely jaunt, perhaps we could place a lit Chester-field in Bud's mouth for the ultimate in filter-less outdoor recreation.

Assuming, and this is a crazy stretch, this sign is supposed to be an update from the "Bud's Ski-Whiz" sign, what are we to deduce from analyzing this guidepost?

I would like to imagine this is the proud silhouette of Yvon Duhamel charging to victory on his Ski-Doo Blizzard, but alas, it's likely a guy named Bob on a 1979 Everest, trying to survive a poker run to a bar, probably called "The Office" or "The Watering Hole." Thankfully, we've evolved into wearing helmets in this fine rendering, but Bob's face and neck are inexplicably absent.

Hmm... Bob is posed in a rather "rider forward" arrangement and he has clearly added the optional backrest to the Everest, facilitating "the wife" coming along now and then.

Clearly, road signs do not reflect the "progressive" nature of our sport, but I think I have a solution. This shameless cut and paste job makes the sign look a bit more modern, but could also save our highway departments money with its double meaning.

Here we see a lovely 1984 John Deere Sprintfire blasting across the requisite safety yellow background. In winter, motorists would clearly deduce a snowmobile crossing, but what about the other 8 months of the year?

How about a Deere Xing?

Tom Clement was born and raised in Grand Forks, N.D., and has been involved in snowmobiling for 30 years as an enthusiast, dealer, would-be collector and observer. Besides being a college business instructor and writer, he enjoys spending time with his family, that is, when he's not finding innovative excuses to go riding.