The 4-way stop

You six loyal readers know I am nothing if not a student of human behavior. But forget university laboratories. Forget focus groups. To witness seemingly rational adults become confused, uncertain and participate in a silent philosophical debate, look no further than a four-way stop. Bring a notepad. The rules are simple. The first person to arrive goes first. If two vehicles arrive simultaneously, the vehicle on the right has the right-of-way. Every driver has presumably passed a test demonstrating command of these principles. And yet, when four vehicles arrive at roughly the same moment, civilization as we know it comes to a standstill. Add a bicycle to the equation and watch the chaos skyrocket. As a cyclist, I encounter this phenomenon regularly. I'll roll up to a stop sign and find two or three cars already waiting. What follows is less a traffic procedure than group therapy without a facilitator. One driver waves another through. The second driver waves back. The third driver waves at both of them. No one moves. For several seconds, we are united not by traffic laws but by mutual uncertainty. Americans often get criticized for being impatient, but that criticism clearly comes from people who have never witnessed a four-way stop. "You go." "No, after you." "You go, no you go, no you go. I'll go, no I'll go. OK, you go, no you go." When the cyclist arrives, drivers suddenly behave as though they've encountered a rare and poorly understood species. Some insist on yielding, even when they clearly arrived first. Others stare intently, trying to determine whether the cyclist intends to stop, proceed, dismount or perhaps launch himself across the intersection. I can almost hear the internal dialogue: "What exactly are the rules here?" "Are bikes vehicles?" "Is he waiting for me?" To be fair, cyclists contribute their share of confusion. A few stop completely. Some keep rolling slowly forward, too lazy to unclip and put a foot down. And there's the guy doing a track stand, wobbling but looking like he's about to take off. I think drivers may wave us through because at least they are sure what we cyclists will do. The result is an intersection full of humans who are all trying to predict what the other humans are going to do while simultaneously hoping someone else will make the first move. It is interesting how quickly the drivers' confidence evaporates. The same person who just navigated Highway 65 at 70 miles per hour (not during rush hour – 1-8 p.m.) suddenly becomes incapable of deciding whether to move forward 10 feet. Freeway driving relies on speed and routine. Four-way stops require negotiation. They demand eye contact, judgment and trust. We are no longer just operating machines; we are interacting with other humans. And boy howdy, are humans complicated! We fear making mistakes, being rude or causing an accident, so we hesitate. Then we overcompensate with friendliness. Then everyone actively hesitates together. The four-way circus can be dangerous for a cyclist because we can't be sure Driver #2 sees when Driver #1 waves us through. At best, we are seen as scofflaws because we went "out of turn." At worst, we get hit by a car. As I pedal away, I often think the four-way stop may be a surprisingly accurate model of life itself. The rules seem clear until real people get involved. Everyone is trying to do the right thing. Everyone is uncertain. Everyone assumes someone else knows what they're doing. And somehow, despite the waving, the hesitation, confusion and the occasional misunderstanding, it usually works out. Eventually, someone commits. The others follow. Traffic resumes. Civilization survives.