My son, who walks to work, often com­plains, and rightly so, about the crazy dri­vers he sees and, unfor­tu­nately, encoun­ters every day. Hav­ing lived in the “city” and now live in the “coun­try”, I have to say that coun­try dri­ving is scarier. At least in the cities you kind of have a clue what might hap­pen next. Not so down here.

Here is dri­ving in Iowa.

Stop does not mean stop unless there is a cop within sight. It means roll.
Yield means, well, noth­ing.
Since traf­fic lights are rare, it is always a guess­ing game if 1) any­one is pay­ing any atten­tion. 2)They don’t believe they really mean you are to slow, stop,and go based on the man­ual color instruc­tion. You get to pick which color means what. 3) That they must be for the traf­fic com­ing the other way. It cer­tainly can’t mean me!!
Solid yel­low lines are the same as bro­ken yel­low lines.
You are a chicken if you don’t pass on the hill. Truck­ers espe­cially think this is fun as they can see what we can­not, so inten­tion­ally make our hearts stop as they swerve in at the last sec­ond before the car pops over the hill.
Lights are not meant to be dimmed.
Blink­ers are not meant to be used.
A wrist on the steer­ing wheel to drive is bet­ter than hands at 10 and 2.
Corn 8 feet tall at all inter­sec­tions now, espe­cially the uncon­trolled ones, obstruct­ing every­ones view, is not for sis­sys. Enter at your own risk.
Dust is no excuse to back off.
Tail­gat­ing does not mean brats and beer. It means get your ass going.
The word “limit” on speed lim­its signs is just a tech­ni­cal­ity and not meant to be taken ver­ba­tim.
A fin­ger wave is the only kind of wave. They know you are from out of state if you wave with your whole hand.
And now you can drive in Iowa.