PORTLAND, OR — As the skies clear and temperatures begin to climb, Oregonians are once again flocking to their favorite summer destination: the driver’s seat of a stationary vehicle, parked on a half-paved road, silently observing a group of neon-clad men holding STOP signs like sacred relics of transportation authority.
“It’s just tradition,” said Beaverton resident Kyle Whitmore, gently wiping sweat from his upper lip while sitting motionless on Highway 26 for the third consecutive hour. “The sun’s out, the cones are out, and there’s a guy standing there like a traffic god deciding who is worthy to pass. I love it.”
The neon vest men, whose official titles remain unclear, stood in formation surrounded by an artfully arranged collection of orange barrels — a modern Stonehenge of delayed ambition. One man, identified only as “Steve,” reportedly moved a cone 6 inches and then stepped back to admire his work.
“We like to keep the suspense alive,” said ODOT spokesperson Randy Holt. “Will traffic move today? Will the guy holding the sign switch it from STOP to SLOW? That’s part of the magic. We don't want to spoil it.”
Though no visible road work appeared to be occurring in the area, a second neon vest man was seen slowly walking in circles while holding a clipboard and nodding at things that may or may not exist.
Do you love Oregon?
Sign up for monthly emails full of local travel inspiration and fun trip ideas. In each newsletter we'll share upcoming events, new things to do, hot dining spots and great travel ideas.
Locals say the ritual brings a sense of peace and continuity. “I wait all year for this,” said Corvallis resident Jeremy Black. “The sun comes out, and so do the cones. It’s like Oregon Groundhog Day, except instead of a rodent predicting the weather, it’s a sweaty man in wraparound sunglasses preventing you from getting to Costco.”
ODOT has confirmed this particular project is part of a multi-year initiative titled “The Lane Closure Experience,” which aims to connect communities through shared road-based suffering.
As of press time, traffic had moved 14 feet, one cone had fallen over, and a third neon vest man had joined the scene, raising his stop sign with the slow, deliberate grace of someone getting paid by the hour.
