As anyone in Teller County knows, it’s there as you travel from the high country down lower.

Past the traffic light in Cascade where the tourists are turning left to go to the North Pole or perhaps up Pikes Peak. And beyond the many curves every one of my readers knows by heart and further than the Manitou Bypass put in place some four generations ago. Once you pass all the way down to where US 24 turns both straight and flat, many encounter, often on a daily basis, a most alluring taunt.

It’s not within the Dino gas station at 8th Street itself, but rather that towering piece of metal and light soaring over the green dinosaur that illuminates both the dinosaur and each of our dashboards.

The object I’m referring to is, of course, the giant Powerball and Mega Millions Billboard that tells you with great and usually increasing specificity the amount of money you could have won if you could only guess a few simple numbers accurately. A game easy enough for any elementary school student to play.

Just as the morning traffic starts to bunch up, giving you ample time to stare as you wait for the light, it stares back with its irresistible digits. “$542 MILLION!” it might scream, or perhaps a slightly more modest, yet still life changing, “$7.3 MILLION!” The digits glow with an almost smug confidence, as if they know perfectly well how far out of reach they actually are for any of us caught in the morning grind.

This daily reminder, “to play on” as our local lottery reminds us, is likely the single most viewed piece of advertising hitting all of Teller County when they come to Colorado Springs for work and play.

Taunting us is its sole intention.

We all know the odds or hopefully we do. We’ve seen the news stories and we know that hitting those numbers is about as likely as finding a hidden gold mine under your driveway. So, for a good number of us, we don’t even buy a ticket. We make the sound, logical decision. Why throw good money away on something that will only remain a dream?

Even if you’ve never bought a single ticket, this message still teases you. It’s a subtle yet deeply effective form of torment before you have even fully woken up. You’re already battling traffic, the clock and the lingering effects of an average American life, and then this shows up to remind you of what you’ll probably never have. Perhaps it’s a reflection of our desires versus our realities. Or maybe it’s just a random piece of highway adornment that happens to perfectly encapsulate one of the many mundane absurdities of being an adult.

I’m not quite old enough to play the lottery yet, but soon will be. This advertising still gets to me.

So, the next time you find yourself stuck at 8th Street, looking up at those unattainable numbers, just know you’re not alone with your feelings. We’re all subject to this particular brand of visual teasing. And at least we can save a few bucks by not playing. Small victories, right?

Ruth Wiseman is a Woodland Park native and a dual-enrolled high school student attending Pikes Peak State College.