four way stops
Getting my children to and from school each day is an exercise in concentration.
Between our house and their schools are no less than half a dozen stop signs. Not normal stop signs where you stop, look, listen, and then go. These are St. Louis stop signs where everybody stops, looks, and listens and then either nobody goes or everybody goes.
During normal daytime hours these stops are pretty much deserted and the rolling (better known as the “St. Louis stop”) can be fairly effective. Slow, listen, roll slowly enough to slam breaks as necessary. (Note: I’ve been advised by area police officers that these rolls though common are not technically legal.) Rolling stops are not an option during the carpool madness in a school district that discontinued school bus service. With cars stacked up in all directions, a full stop is inevitable and with the full stop emerges the courtesy question of who moves next.
Before you all hit the respond button to share with me the four-way-stop-rules, let me be clear that I have heard them, read them, and even tried to use them. “Right rules” means that the person to my right has the right of way. Except if I arrive first and then I can go first. Unless the person to my right is traveling concurrent with the person to my left who was waiting prior to my arrival. If the person to my right arrived before me, I wait for them unless the person directly across proceeds straight away (in which case it is appropriate to also move across the intersection). All of these scenarios presume, of course, straight shots. Drivers intending to turn at a fourway stop introduce another set of possible options.
The exploration of options is my daily bread. Theologians and parents both spend their days juggling competing expectations and apparently oppositional ideas which need to be finessed into one coherent whole. Living with dyslexics, I’ve come to cherish the world of stories and puzzles. Together with Google, I explore the interconnections of my faith experience and that of those who bear the label ‘pagan’ or ‘heretic’. Unrelated to reproductive choices I’ve adopted the mantra of “all options counseling”. For the most part, this posture of openness is richly rewarding.
The four way stop, however, is the bane of my existence. As I sit at the successive stop signs each morning I consider the various options. Invariably I either miss an opportunity that the person behind me thought was obvious (and they honk just to make sure that my shame is secure) or I cut in front of some unsuspecting driver (who gives me one of those looks that makes my mother’s glare seem tame). This openness to the options is an incredible asset when playing Sudoku, but it is rather treacherous during the carpool run.