By Kevin Potvin

In the street where I walk my son to school, I’ve noticed an interesting and previously unreported "tribal supremacy" dance. Other amateur anthropologists may find in my observations comparisons to their own studies of primates and lower animals.

The field of action is what is essentially a one-lane street due to parked cars on both sides. In this long, narrow field, SUVs as big as houses and fleets of minivans square off and engage in a primitive symphony of movements. A map showing the patterns would be useful.

Virtually anywhere within the field, the vehicles disgorge children, who emerge into a sea of steel battering rams. They weave and swarm to the safety of the school yard while the engines of the impatient contestants rumble and rev, readying for the charge. If my son and I aren’t timely, we’ll come to the street we need to cross too late, which means we have to enter the field of action at great risk.

The minivans and SUVs cluster together as if to smell each other’s exhaust and size up each other’s determination. In the opening arrangement, sides are taken according to the direction the vehicle is initially pointed: east or west. Even while some children are still amidst the bumpers and tires, the jerking forward and back motions begin. First backing up, they’ll steer erratically, then charge ahead, challenging their opponent to back up in turn. Sometimes a combatant will abandon the minivan or SUV in the middle of the road and jog—with a smile—into the school. Even the lightesttouching immediately brings the dance to a halt, whereupon the drivers emerge and closely note the place their vehicles touched. They caress them, talk about exactly what happened and note surrounding circumstances. Authorities are often called to make more precise measurements and records, which become cultural artifacts examined by people in offices perhaps for months afterward.

Eventually, the contestants exhaust themselves and somehow disentangle to return to their driveways, usually only two or three blocks away. It only takes one day to recharge their enthusiasm, however. The next morning, the same contestants reappear in the field, this time in some slightly altered opening arrangement, and the jerking, the honking, the rage and the erratic backing begins over again.

Many more turn out to the dance when it rains, and the behaviour is notably more confrontational. Additionally, headlights become an important part of the communication repertoire. The vehicles flash their lights at each other in intricate patterns—on and off, highbeam to lowbeam and back again, for instance—that may suggest to lay-observers a rudimentary language.

On occasions, when drivers of two vehicles engaged in heated near-touching recognize each other as "friends," they will immediately tame their vehicles. They’ll even arrange for safe passage for their opponent, often battling over whose offer to pass safely should be accepted first. When they do pass, the drivers will put down their windows and say "Sorry" and smile, or even stop to engage in conversation.

This enrages other drivers. This early signal of abandoned hostilities between the camps can bring on a great chorus of honking to show grave displeasure. It is seen, perhaps, as a sign of weakness. Alternatively, it could signal to others in the east-moving or west-moving camp that a defection has occurred.

Other vehicles park on the streets leading off the school’s main street, out of the field of action. Occasionally, however, stirred by the honking perhaps, or inspired by the jerking movements, these others will jump into the dance, lending support to one or another of the camps.

The dance can be observed every morning outside all schools in the city. However, bring your field journals and binoculars early. The dance usually lasts only five or so minutes before the field of action returns to a normal and quiet street.

Unless, of course, there’s been some illicit touching. Then, if you approach carefully, you may be allowed to examine the place they touched, or even—if you’re lucky—to caress it. However, an important rule to observe is that the driver of the touched vehicle must always caress it first.