Signals

This morning, I turned up Harrison from the pseudo-round-a-bout and didn't signal when I shifted over to the left lane. There were no other cars around, and I thought, "What does it matter?" The thing is, is that I always signal my turns, even if nobody is around, a force of habit I guess. The turn to go up Harrison hill is usually a pretty senseless one to signal at: there are two lanes, and before ten or after six there is hardly ever anyone out there, yet whenever I changed lanes entering the hill, even late at night, I always signaled. Why was today different?

I began to ponder this as I sat waiting for my food at Egan's. I remembered conversations with my father, asking him why he didn't signal, pointing around to the absence of company and declaring, "If a tree falls in the woods does anybody hear it?" I felt told, that he knew something maniacally human that I had not picked up on. But then again, he wouldn't ever signal even in traffic, and is widely known as one of the most inattentive drivers in our community. Maybe I didn't miss anything, and maybe it was more than a force of habit.

I tend to lift tedious things into a spiritual meaning. I feel whenever I pull the signal down or flip it up, I am declaring my existence, at least as a driver. I thought back to my initial question during my internal monologue. "What does it matter?" If I do not signal, I am leaving it as a tedious action of my upper-lower-middle class quasi suburban existence. But if I announce my next move, if I signal what I am doing, it becomes realer then it was if I didn't.

Then I remember that I signal when nobody else is around. I think of the tree falling in the woods and nobody is around to hear it. The tree makes a noise, creating the opportunity for the ear to hear it. I signal my turn, creating the opportunity for someone to recognize it. The tree has no control over if it makes the sound, I have control over whether or not someone can recognize my forthcoming action. And this crucial difference has a strong implication. The conscious choice I make implies that I feel there is someone else to recognize it. Even if there is nobody visible on the road, a higher power would be watching over me, that I have subconsciously acknowledged by pulling the lever. If there is no human eye to witness the right deed, then I have created an eye to see it.

My force of habit, my routine, may actually be an unintentional offering, a prayer if you will, to society. And in the absence of a visible society, I have created one to replace it.

So maybe it does matter.