Two writers, one prompt. A month-long challenge to metaphorically put pen to paper
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I wonder if my mom can hear the incessant “beep, beep” my car makes when we’re on the phone and my wheels go over the white line. Does Apple CarPlay pick up the robotic chatter of my highly sensitive car? I found myself thinking about these lines while stuck in abhorrent traffic yesterday. Sometimes they’re yellow, sometimes white, and I’ve even seen pink paved lines once. Sometimes they’re broken, solid, or maybe nonexistent during extreme weather. In any case, it’s rather remarkable how much faith we’ve placed in a few inches of paint. Millions of drivers, hurtling down stretches of asphalt in massive machines, trusting that those on the other side will respect the same imaginary boundary.
Then in certain scenarios, we’re allowed to cross them, but only at our own risk. Adrenaline pumping as we white-knuckle the steering wheel to pass another car. Or other times when new lanes are created, and we follow them blindly, while still seeing the remnants of the old paint. It’s strange how much something seemingly arbitrary can dictate so much of our movement. A few paved lines representing an elaborate system of expectations held together by an extraordinary trust that everyone will play by the rules.
I suppose much of life operates this way. Invisible agreements between people that create order and a semblance of security. Unspoken rules about where we belong, how we’re supposed to behave, and when we’re allowed to veer into someone else’s lane. We navigate these boundaries every single day without question. Somewhere along the way, we traded dirt roads with wagon grooves for ribbons of pavement with road rules. I wonder when these suggestions became laws. How many people have to follow the same path before it becomes the status quo? These lines corral us forward, and willingly, we follow.
The entire concept of lines feels contradictory to everything else we’re told. We’re supposed to stay in our lane, but also think outside the box. We’re expected to toe the line, while also being encouraged to color outside it. We want people to draw the line, but criticize them for being too rigid.
We seem to have a rather complicated relationship with lines. We stand in them, cross them, throw them, draw them, blur them, and occasionally deliver them with comedic timing. Some are made to keep people out, while others are created to keep us in. And despite all of this, years of social conditioning seem to vanish the moment we enter Costco.
Our instincts are to create boundaries. Our tendencies are to push them. And somewhere in the middle, we invented cars with lane-assist. Perhaps we are just selectively obedient. We follow the rules when they suit us, bend them when they don’t, and occasionally need a gentle steering-wheel buzz to stay within the lines. Beep, beep.