Taking a bus, driving a car – exploring the texture of doing things.

The impact of change is usually painted with broad strokes – the Industrial Revolution, the Internet Age, the iPhone age – and yet the real impact of change and new technology is felt directly in people’s everyday routines and interactions. Take the car, for instance. It’s usually described in terms of urban sprawl, air pollution and changes in teen dating practices. But what does it mean in terms of the daily patterns of our lives? And we must remember that easy transportation of any sort is a fairly new factor in our lives.

Up until 1850 or so in most countries transportation for most people was by foot, and limited to a few tens of miles a day, or by horse or stagecoach for the well-off. Only with the moving of most people to the city did horse-trams appear, offering longer-distance transport for the public within cities. Then came the electric streetcar, railroad train and commuter services, later subways and motorized buses. But these all were public – in all sense of the word. The well-to-do had their enclosed carriages, and later their luxury cars, but for most people going anywhere beyond the immediate neighborhood involved a foray into the public domain of life. Then came Henry Ford and his Model T, and private transportation for the “masses” became a reality. (I still have a snapshot of my grandfather standing proudly next to his Model T.)

Now getting places became independent upon what the rest of the city or town was doing. As cars became more advanced, they also became completely enclosed – a private space within the great outdoors, yet mobile. Think how this has changed our experience of everyday life. There are changes in its basic rhythm and its place within the web of our interactions with other people – the basic textures of our lives.

Stop and examine the process of something as simple and routine as a bus trip in the city, and observe all the details that are involved. Follow it in your mind, imagining each step in order.

First, I have to check the weather. Will it be cold? Will I need an umbrella? (If the weather is very bad, I might even have to postpone the trip.) Then, the bus routes have to be considered. Does a bus even go there? Will I have to change lines? What about the schedule – weekend or weekday, and is it frequent or only episodic? And do I have change for the bus? Except for the metro train stations, bus drivers can’t give change, and there are no provisions for credit or debit cards, so I have to have the money in coins or dollar bills. All this even before I can start out.

I go out on the street, and immediately things become unpredictable. On the way to the bus stop I may meet someone – friend or stranger – and they may greet me or start a conversation. In Baltimore, strangers passing on the street say something like, “Hi?” or “How you doing?” just as a friendly acknowledgement of another human being. Or it may be a neighbor, and I have to greet them, then decide how long I can chat before missing my bus. When I get to the bus stop there may be someone else waiting, and I may or may not have a conversation with them. Since it very seldom happens that the bus comes immediately, I have to wait a bit. The passage of time becomes noticeable – I am not in control of when the bus comes.

The bus comes and I get on. First, I speak to the driver, show my ID for my senior pass and put in my money. Then, it’s time to find a seat. I look up and down the aisle, noting not just which seats are empty but who is sitting where. I am now in a public space, as in fact I have been ever since leaving the house. Who is in that public space and what they do is mostly beyond my control. Some people may smile at me, some scowl, some will ignore me. They may be old or young, men or women, my race or ethnic group or not, well-dressed or scruffy. But they will all be different, different from each other and different from me. If there is a row empty, I can sit there, but otherwise I have to choose who to sit next to. That person may ignore me, or have to move a bag to give me space, may smile and even start a conversation (which I may or may not want). Whether I will it or not, I have to interact with other people.
Time is again important. I have to know when to get off, so I have to watch where the bus has come, and pull the request cord in time. As in waiting for the bus, I have no control over how long the ride takes – it takes as long as it does, and I have to pass the time some way. I can read, stare out the window, watch the other people (sometimes watching me), snooze, think about something, or just blank out. When I get off I may have to ask someone to move to let me out, and I will of course wish the driver a nice day.

But consider what happens when I drive (hypothetically, since I don’t own a car). Except in extreme circumstances (blizzards, hurricane warnings), weather is irrelevant. Timing is also unimportant, unless it’s rush hour and I need to allow extra time. Of course I need to know my route, make sure there is enough gas in the car, take my license, etc., but this is almost trivial.

Then I get into the car, and again, I’m back in my own private space. The car is a little bit of my own territory, probably cluttered with objects useful and discarded, and with a lock on the door to keep outsiders out and my stuff in. I don’t move directly in the world, but encased in my private castle. On the road, I don’t encounter other people as people, but by proxy, through their cars. Very seldom will I speak with or directly look at another person. I am in a mobile, semi-private space, moving through the restricted area of streets. Of course I must keep an eye on other drivers and adjust my actions to theirs, but it is always at one remove. Cars have a limited behavior repertoire – speed up, slow down, veer right or left. There are few surprises, except for other drivers doing dangerous things.

Two different actions – two different textures. One is full of actions, occurrences in the environment, meetings with other people. The other is cocooned, stereotyped, and basically solitary. The texture of one is varied and unpredictable, engaging attention, thoughts and emotions. The other is stereotyped, limited and bland. What difference does this make to the mind of the person experiencing them?

Our world since industrialization and urbanization has tended more and more to the bland, untextured type of experience, much different from human lives in the thousands of years we lived before. In future posts I will look at several other types of experience from this perspective – work, buying goods, conducting friendships.