It was suggested in the previous post that the complexities of the 4-way stop in rural Pennsylvania are comparable to Physics or high-level mathematics.
Outlandish you say?
As you approach it, you begin to feel a queasiness in your stomach. You can’t see it yet, but you know it’s out there, looming in the distance.
Then you see it.
That queasiness in your stomach tightens into a knot.
Your heart pounds.
Tendrils of fear burrow down your spine.
Your palms dampen and beads of sweat build on your forehead.
You’re sweating like a virgin on prom night.
You are bearing down on a 4-way stop in rural Pennsylvania.
The 4-way stop in rural Pennsylvania is the Bermuda Triangle of the driving world. The gauges in your vehicle begin to malfunction. The laws of physics begin to fail. You become disoriented and a form of temporary stupidity sets in–on occasions the stupidity is permanent. The rules of polite society crumble into chaos.
Despite the evidence, there are a distinct set of rules to follow when approaching a 4-way stop in rural Pennsylvania:
- Prepare your insurance information before you get to the intersection, keeping in mind the inevitable collision.
- Ease your way toward the intersection, displaying cautious trepidation.
- Make eye contact with the other motorists, looking for signs of fear and weakness.
- Identify the motorist displaying the most fear and weakness, he has the right of way.
- Wait for the motorist who has the right of way to go.
- Motion disgustedly when nobody goes.
- Spend several interminable moments as all the motorists gawk numbly at each other.
- Disgustedly pull into the intersection.
- Slam on the brakes after all of the motorists have pulled into the intersection.
- Slowly put your vehicle in reverse as you suspiciously eye the other motorists.
- Exclaim, “what the hell is wrong with these idiots,” when again, nobody goes.
- Decide you’ve had enough and floor it.
- Push the airbag away from your face as it deflates.
- Marvel at the 4 car collision you’ve just been a part of.
- Curse loudly…or at least as loudly as you can with a broken jaw.
The following warning sign should be before every 4-way stop in rural Pennsylvania:
Amelia Earhart didn’t disappear over the Bermuda Triangle; she’s at a 4-way stop outside of Erie Pennsylvania, shaking her fist at a bunch of idiots.