As I prepared to back out of my parking spot, I was on edge.
Our nation was two months into a blossoming pandemic. Due to virus concerns and stay-at-home orders, I hadn’t been out of my neighborhood much. But on this afternoon, I’d headed to FedEx to ship off some damaged headphones for repairs.
As I returned to my vehicle from that errand, I wasn’t in the best state of mind. But I still needed to get home, so I focused on the task at hand.
I put my SUV in reverse and took my foot on the brake. Then I peered over my left shoulder as the vehicle slowly moved backward. I wanted to make sure there wasn’t any cross traffic.
The coast was clear to my left. But before I could look to my right, I felt a dull thud.
I knew immediately what that meant. I’d collided with another vehicle.
I inched my SUV forward and put it in Park. Then I stepped outside to survey the damage.
It turned out that another driver was backing her SUV out of a nearby spot at the same time as I was. Neither one of us could see the other vehicle until it was too late.
The collision happened at a low speed, but there was still damage. My fender was dented in one spot, and it would need to be replaced. Her fender also had a few marks on it.
I checked to see if the other driver was alright. She did the same.
But then, the realities of pandemic life overtook us. We quickly exchanged insurance information and went our separate ways.
On my ride home, I kept replaying the incident in my mind. What could I have done differently to avoid this small calamity?
One answer kept coming to mind. I could have checked my backup camera more closely.
I’d owned my SUV for five years at this point. And yet, I hadn’t quite mastered the art of using the backup camera when I was in reverse.
None of the previous vehicles I’d driven had such technology on board. And that meant I was woefully prepared to use it.
Way back when I was learning to drive, I had been instructed to check my rearview mirror when backing out of a parking spot. I was also taught to check over each shoulder to make sure no cross traffic was in my way.
I had mastered these lessons. And over the years, they became fossilized habits.
Now, there was a backup camera in my vehicle that promised to replace all these arcane practices. The future was here. But I still didn’t fully trust it.
So, I fell back on old habits. I would check the camera for a moment, but then glance over each shoulder to ensure the coast was clear.
I got away with this sequence for years. But now, it had finally caught up with me.
And now, with a damaged fender in tow, my objective was clear. It was time to break with my old driving habits, for once and for all.
Back in 1925, a baseball player named Wally Pipp woke up with a headache.
Instead of manning first base for the New York Yankees, Pipp sat out the game. A young ballplayer named Lou Gehrig manned his position instead.
Pipp never regained his old role. Gehrig went on to play the next 2,130 games at first base for the Yankees, earning the nickname The Iron Horse. The streak only ended when Gehrig retired 14 years later, crippled by a strange ailment that would later bear his name — and claim his life.
The demise of Wally Pipp will forever remain a cautionary tale. But an ill-timed headache wasn’t the only reason Pipp lost his spot for good.
Gehrig had immense talent. His Hall of Fame accolades make that clear.
But Gehrig also had great habits. He prepared himself to play each and every day. He perfected his craft as a hitter and a fielder. And he made no excuses when he faced adversity.
For many years, Gehrig was overshadowed in baseball lore by Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle, and Hank Aaron. But when I was young, his name came back into the spotlight.
A shortstop on the Baltimore Orioles was set to surpass The Iron Horse’s consecutive games streak. Cal Ripken, Jr. ultimately shattered the record, finishing with 2,632 consecutive games played. And in the process, he displayed the same stellar habits that Gehrig had six decades earlier.
I did not grow up as an Orioles fan, but I had plenty of respect for Ripken. I tried to follow in his and Gehrig’s footsteps, finding productive habits and latching on to them. Such commitments have kept me productive into adulthood.
But adhering to fundamentals is not a panacea. Preparation and discipline are timeless virtues, but the protocols for backing a car out of a parking spot are not.
Indeed, for all we complain about technology, it does drive progress.
The automobile goes faster than any tandem of horses ever could. Computers have transformed businesses in ways our legal pad-wielding predecessors could only dream of. The Internet has provided the world an unprecedented opportunity to connect in real-time.
Adopting these innovations has meant casting off old habits. And yet, as new protocols emerge, I still find myself struggling to adapt to them.
Grappling with novelty makes me feel vulnerable and powerless. So, I fall back on the familiar — even when such actions are fraught with danger.
I call this conundrum The Habit Trap. And all too often, it’s swallowed me whole.
There’s no experience quite like catching the sunrise.
A splash of light emerges from a dark sky. And with it comes a realm of new possibilities.
I’ve considered myself averse to novelty. And yet, I’ve found myself awestruck by the rising sun again and again.
It provides a sense of calm in the wake of uncertainty. It melds the familiarity of habit with the opportunity for improvement. It provides us balance and leaves us feeling whole.
Perhaps I can learn from the example of the sunrise.
For there are ways to wean ourselves off outdated routines. Instead of making a clean break, we can mix the uncomfortable with the familiar.
In my case, this has meant going through my peek-over-the-shoulder routine while my car is still in Park. I’m not going to catch much cross traffic this way — my view is blocked — but I won’t find myself colliding with other vehicles either.
For others stuck in The Habit Trap, the way out might look different. But the details are not what matters here. What’s important is that there is a way out.
We simply need to be strategic, intentional, and open-minded. We need to be willing to move toward a new normal, even if it takes us a little longer to leave the past behind.
If we do this, we can make The Habit Trap history. And we’ll be better for it.
So, let us begin.