Dip.

Dip.

On Interstate 5, just south of the I-805 merge, there's one of those programmable light-up CalTrans/Dept of Transportation/whatever signs on the freeway that says "Dip Ahead." And then, there's no dip. There are signs on both the north-bound and south-bound lanes. Also on both: no dip.

Of course, I am always, every single time, ready and braced for the dip and undergo a series of ease-off-the-gas, arms-steady flinches for the next half mile past the sign, like when you finally drop a bad bout of hiccups but are then plagued with that rhythmic psychosomatic anticipation where your hiccups used to be.

Either take down the fucking signs or dig me a better dip.