This month’s off-topic topic is… traffic circle etiquette. Some of you call them “roundabouts.” And yes—before anyone emails the office—Roundabout was indeed a magnificent song by the band YES, and if you haven’t heard it, do yourself a favor and give it a spin.
For anyone who prefers to skip the progressive rock references yet still loves the word “roundabout,” just know it has a touch of theatrical charm. It’s the sort of term that fits neatly into a line like, “I passed through the roundabout on my way to pick up some artisan mayonnaise.” Nothing wrong with that, of course—but it’s worth being aware of the energy we’re putting out into the world.
Now, a traffic circle works because everyone agrees to a few simple principles: You yield. You signal. You commit. You keep moving. That’s it. No manuals. No lectures. No 47-step protocol.
It’s a trust-based system. A system where your actions create the conditions for everyone else’s success.
Traffic lights, in contrast, are the strict school principal of road control. “Stop. Go. Stop.” Very binary. Very East Germany. But a traffic circle is far more… Christmassy. It’s cooperative. It’s communal. It’s like passing the gravy at Christmas dinner: no one is explicitly in charge, but somehow the gravy goes around, everyone gets some, and the meal continues.
But in a roundabout, selfishness breaks the system. Hesitation breaks it too.
So does the “I’ll just do whatever I want” mentality.
What keeps it flowing isn’t control—it’s grace. A tiny, momentary gift of generosity: letting someone in, predicting their path, and signaling yours clearly enough that a stranger can make a decision.
It’s basically the same mindset we use when surviving the social nightmare of New Year’s Eve plans. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll just… merge.” Ironically, the traffic circle might be the only setting during the holidays where merging with strangers is not only tolerated but genuinely encouraged.
Roundabout etiquette is a reminder that progress doesn't happen because someone else stops. It happens because we coordinate. Because we decide, together, that momentum is better than obstruction.
So, to recap:
Yield in. Yes—yield! The cars already inside the circle have the right of way, because they got there first. This is kindergarten-level social order. Picture a merry-go-round: if a kid is already on the horse, you don’t shove them off.
Signal out. I know, I know, using turn signals feels like revealing state secrets to some drivers, but in a traffic circle it’s essential. Signaling tells everyone, “Relax, I’m leaving,” not “I might leave… or I might orbit this thing forever like some sort of confused Saturn moon.”
Don’t stop. For the love of all things holy, do not stop in the circle. It is not a parking lot. It is not a meditation retreat. It is not a place to check your GPS because it suddenly told you to ‘proceed west’ even though you’re already spinning like a drunken figure skater. Keep moving. That’s the entire point.
Finally, if the circle has multiple lanes, pick your lane based on where you intend to exit. If you don’t know where that is, that’s fine—but don’t drift across lanes like you’re reenacting a Fast & Furious stunt. No one should have to guess whether you’re exiting on the next leg or attempting to escape the gravitational pull of the roundabout entirely.