Hesitating at the roundabout

A new driver approaching a busy roundabout in Abu Dhabi does something entirely understandable. Afraid of a crash, she slows, edges forward, stops, edges forward again. She looks right, then left, then right. A gap opens and she lets it pass, because she was not sure. Another opens and she half takes it, then brakes.

Every one of those moves is meant to make her safer. Together, they make her the most dangerous car on the road. The drivers behind cannot predict her. The drivers already circling cannot read her. All that caution has turned into wandering.

An experienced driver approaches the same roundabout with a plan. She knows which lane she wants and which exit. She watches for her gap, and when it comes she takes it, at a steady speed, without drama. She may still misjudge one day. She is far less likely to, precisely because she committed.

There is a version of this in almost anything people attempt. A small shop that keeps changing its window because it is scared of failing. A student who switches subjects every term to avoid choosing wrongly. The fear of collapse produces a restless, directionless motion, and that motion is what brings the collapse closer.

If something is going to fail, better that it fails while moving with purpose than while going round in circles. More often than not, though, a plan carried out calmly is exactly what gets it safely through.