Autopilot

Coming into work today I had the good fortune of finding a parking spot right by the entrance to the lot. Usually by the time I come in the good spots are all taken and I have to park several rows back. Today however I must have arrived just after this spot was vacated, so I gladly took it, scampered to the office, and had a very uneventful day at work.

On the way out I walked back into the lot as usual, stopped and looked around for my car. I conducted a broad visual sweep of the lot until my eyes settled on my car, barely a metre to my left. I stood there dazed for a few seconds looking at it. I needn’t have been surprised… had I thought about it beforehand I’d have known exactly where it was. What was strange was the realisation that I had pretty much been on autopilot the whole time until being jarred out of it.

I got into my car and left the lot thinking about this. A lot of my life, certainly on workdays, is quite routine, whether by design or by choice. I barely have to think about how I do much of what I do, I just mindlessly repeat the actions of the day before. I thought about what this was doing to my mental capacity. I recalled something I had read years ago about how people who kept their minds active and engaged were less likely to develop dementia and other mental problems later in life. The same article had said that even minor things made an impact, like taking a different route home every day. This part clicked – I am taking a different route home today, I thought. If only to keep my brain “on” for the ride home.

So I did. The trip was… different, not in itself any more or less interesting than the more direct route I usually take. But it certainly was more engaging than my usual trip, and that’s all I asked for. While I’d usually zone out and focus only on the road ahead, I was taking it all in, noticing the details of the suburban houses and still-brown lawns I’d normally ignore, that building on the way – is that new? – and how it was actually a pretty nice day out.

Most importantly my brain seemed to be at full function. This is good, I thought. I should do this more. I conceived of a project for myself – every day for the next week, do something about my routine differently. It might be difficult, I acknowledged, to even think of one thing a day that could be done differently. But at least I’d be thinking, that was the point.

Finally my scenic route took me into my home neighbourhood. One last zig where normally I’d zag – I took one of the more ‘minor’ streets that pretty much has a stop sign every block, though every several blocks they change up the hierarchy so it retains the right-of-way over a more major street. I was coming up to one such intersection – just to be safe though, I slowed a bit and watched for cars rolling through. Sure enough, just as I approached, a car barely slowed as it came in from my left, attempting a left turn. I laid onto the brakes and horn… the car screeched to a halt halfway into the intersection just ahead of me. I cautiously piloted my car around the stopped vehicle, gave the driver a glare, and continued on. As I approached the end of the block I looked at the rear view mirror. The car was still stopped in the same place. Perhaps the driver needed to collect herself, being jarred out of autopilot.