I cannot wait until there are no more human drivers.

I cannot wait until there are no more human drivers. This thought initially crossed my mind when I first drove a Tesla. Lately, I think about it nearly every day, whether I’m walking, biking, or driving. During just a two mile trip this morning, I saw two blown red lights; two people swerve over the center line while texting; and two attempts to pass on the right in a bike or parking lane. That is a serious safety incident every 1/3 mile! The better self-driving technology becomes, the less safe I feel sharing the road with people.

I remember learning to drive as a kid, seeing oncoming traffic in the other lane, and being amazed at the level of trust we all put in each other with these machines. And that was before the constant distraction of smartphones. The societal value of cars has always outweighed the costs, I think by far. But within a few years we will be able to remove the safety trade-off from the equation altogether. If we have the political will.

As technology improves, the safety disparity between human drivers and machine drivers will become so glaring, so overwhelming, that fully autonomous cars will be legalized everywhere. I’m confident in this prediction. To make human drivers on open roads illegal will be harder, but I think worth trying. Car and gun fatalities in the US both come in around 40,000 per year. But the vast majority of car fatalities are accidental, while the vast majority of gun fatalities are not. So car fatalities should be more preventable. And unlike gun ownership, there is no explicit constitutional right to driving. So driving prohibition should be less legally controversial.

If it happens at all, the banning of human drivers in the US will proceed state-by-state, and may break along political lines. If it happens, the effort will likely be led by grassroots advocates, mostly families of victims–something like MADD on steroids. Car nuts can migrate to closed recreational courses, and the rest of us can text and ride, guilt free. I hope it does happen. I hope our societal attachment to the open road is less dear than our attachment to gun ownership.

I hope one day we all feel truly safe on the road, which to me would mean living in a time and place where humans aren’t allowed to drive. Until then, I’ll be cheering on Tesla and their competition as they race toward full autonomy.

Retrace your steps.

Retrace your steps. When you’re missing something, or feeling lost, stuck, or blocked. The other day I misplaced my favorite hat, then found it by retracing my steps.

Today I wasn’t sure what to write about, so I pulled a card from Oblique Strategies, and the card said, “Retrace your steps.” Oblique Strategies is a deck of cards with short encouragements, non-sequiturs, and pseudo-aphorisms, meant to clear creative blocks and promote lateral thinking. When you’re stuck, you pull a card, and try to do exactly what it says. Or, do the opposite. Or, do nothing, and just see what happens. Some other cards, pulled at random:

  • Breathe more deeply
  • Emphasize differences
  • Work at a different speed
  • Infinitesimal gradations
  • Discover the recipes you are using and abandon them
  • Turn it upside down
  • Do something boring
  • Tape your mouth
  • Honor thy error as a hidden intention

I’ve been carrying my Oblique Strategies deck with me the past few days. This morning my dad and I were reminiscing about a trip we took together 18 years ago to see the Steelers in the Super Bowl. Reliving it as an adult, specific memories felt entirely new to me, not in content but in context. So for the rest of today, I’m going to try to retrace my steps both physically and metaphorically, to see what seems new, what seems familiar, and what surprises me.

PS–if you’re interested, you can buy a deck here, or use this free online version.

“I think you’d do well on the internet.”

“I think you’d do well on the internet.” This is what a friend told me last night, and then we all laughed. We were discussing my blogging goals, our absence from social media, personal posts invading LinkedIn, and the contrasts between “cheugy” and “twee.”

For now, I’m happy if a few close friends and family read this. But who knows, maybe I’ll find my voice and find a niche in the blogosphere. So what do you think, can I make it on the internet?

It’s race day in Chicago.

It’s race day in Chicago. Some friends and I are running the F3 Half Marathon today. Apparently this winter race is normally very cold. Most years, the organizers pre-salt the entire path as a “perk. But we’re expecting a manageable 40° F this morning—a nearly ideal race temperature, my much faster friend assures me.

This race is where the hardcore midwestern runners and marathon trainers maintain their fitness through the winter, and check in on their readiness for April’s Boston Marathon. For me, training for this race was something to get me out of bed and keep a semblance of routine after our wedding, and while not working this winter. I’m not expecting a personal best.

Part of me wishes we had sub-zero temps and ice, for the true hardcore F3 experience. But because today I’m just hoping to finish, I’m sure I’ll be grateful for the warm weather and sunshine.

I made some new friends today.

I made some new friends today. At my age, this doesn’t happen every day! My new friends are three start-up founders who are working with some colleagues of mine. We were introduced Monday, then spent time in meetings together Tuesday and Wednesday.

These three are serious, ambitious people. You can tell they are on a mission. But while they take their business seriously, they don’t take themselves too seriously. Throughout the week we laughed, joked, and got to know each other. After our last meeting, we went for lunch.

This is their first time in the U.S., and all they’ve seen of New York is Midtown and Times Square. I wanted them to experience a different side of the city before their long international flight home tonight. We hopped on the train and went to a favorite downtown restaurant of mine.

We had an amazing meal, debriefed on a hectic week, and bonded over shared interests and outlooks. I got the feeling that we are fast friends, and will eventually be longtime friends. I can’t wait to see if I’m right, and to see how this new friendship may deepen.

I’m blogging from my phone today.

I’m blogging from my phone today, over coffee at Ground Central in Hell’s Kitchen. I’m at a conference I’ve been coming to for 10+ years, and for most of those, this shop has been my respite whenever I have 20 minutes to sneak away from meetings.

Sitting here now—as I’m writing on a giant iPhone 15, using the Jetpack app for WordPress—I’m thinking about how long technologies take to mature. When I started coming here, mobile and cloud were both still new-ish, especially in the legal market, where I work. I remember mobile data challenges being a big problem in legal tech. Companies dealing with mobile data were the hot startups for a few years here. Similar story for cloud, the legal market was the last to arrive.

When I left my job a few months ago, I turned in my work laptop. I bought a Chromebook and it’s my only laptop right now. 10 years ago, this would have would have been unthinkable. I still use Microsoft Office products daily. But the web and iOS apps for Office work great now, and it’s all tied together by OneDrive. I can get by with a Chromebook until I’m full time again, no problem.

By the way, if you’re around Times Square check out Ground ace the coffee is good, as are the music and sound system. Today they’re playing Regina Spektor, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, and White Stripes.

It’s good to be in New York.

It’s good to be in New York. Years ago, I was traveling here often enough to start keeping a MetroCard in my wallet year-round. The card is so useful to have on hand, and so noticeably unnoticeable in its thinness, that I was never tempted to remove it from my wallet.

These days I’m in NYC less frequently, but still I haven’t considered ditching my MetroCard. It’s not only the inconvenience of buying a new one for each trip. When I open my wallet and pull out that blue and yellow card, it still gives me a little jolt of happy energy to be here, to know my way around, and to feel familiar, if not native.

All transit systems have issues, but for me New York’s subway works great, and is so far ahead of transit in Chicago and other US cities that I never take it for granted. Nearly every trip I’ve ever taken on the NYC subway has been to or from someplace exciting. Being here it still feels like an adventure. When I’m not here, seeing the MetroCard in my wallet reminds me of what I love about the city, makes me look forward to coming back.

I love a good on-site.

I love a good on-site. I’m doing some side consulting during my time off, and yesterday was my first full “workday” since I left my job. I spent the day on-site with a CEO and a few colleagues, working with him on both strategic and practical questions facing his business.

Looking at new problems was energizing, as was feeling that my advice was useful. But most of all, it was energizing to be working a full day on a project out of my own interest. I left around 5 PM, feeling more energized than when I’d arrived that morning. I was thrilled by the thought of working for fun right now, as much or as little as I like.

I’ve always hoped the end of my career will include a phase defined by working when, how, and with whom I want. Yesterday was my first small taste of that lifestyle, and I was pleased that it exceeded my expectations.

My vision for this sabbatical.

My vision for this sabbatical is To Pursue Spiritual and Intellectual Clarity. I wrote yesterday about my love for vision statements, so I want to share how I thought about this one. The spiritual and the intellectual are two dimensions in which I’ve long wanted to invest more time.

I felt pulled toward the idea of pursuit, because of course I don’t expect to achieve clarity during this short sojourn (or ever). But also because while plotting my adventure, I felt a desire to seek rather than to find. I’ve had this feeling on and off, maybe always, but I’ve never concentrated on it. The Seeker in me is the layer to be unearthed, the itch to be scratched.

As for how these two central pursuits will take shape and what they will truly entail, I have only vague notions. I will share my experience here, as best I can. I believe daily writing will be a clarifying ritual for me.

I love vision statements.

I love vision statements. Though the vision statement has a mixed reputation in the corporate world, its use in other contexts is underappreciated. You can see this for yourself. You have the power to rescue the vision statement from its bland, amorphous, corporate-handbook origins. You can shrink it down to a travel-sized version, and bring it out in your personal life, even in social situations. Here, it succeeds surprisingly often, and surprisingly well. Here, it can turn into social magic.

On a recent trip to New Orleans, I suggested the exercise to two close friends. Starting at a bar, we brainstormed increasingly bold and poetic ideas for what the weekend could be. We settled on a vision inspired by the winding mystique of the city’s oldest neighborhoods, by its voodoo associations, and by our hope the weekend would mark a personal turning point for each of us: “Down dark alleys, explore new avenues.” We made our vision statement an incantation over each of the many drinks we shared. We began asking our servers and barmates where to go next, and trusted them blindly. We found ourselves in weirder, more interesting, and more authentic settings and conversations than we’d have found otherwise, led by the openness and curiosity our vision statement engendered in us.

I challenge you to try this at your next dinner, meeting, or trip. I’ve found it works best with people you know very well, or barely at all–but less well with people in the middle. If you try it, don’t be sheepish. Summon whatever charisma and courage you have. If you’re committed enough, the group will play along. And here’s what will happen:

  • Expanded possibility space. Your group will subtly but automatically expand its ideas of what this shared experience can be … they will think bigger, and open themselves to deeper conversation; people may pay attention to more cues than normal, taking closer note of setting and mood.
  • Shared vulnerability. Because you’ve already taken a risk, others will let down their guard; any eye-rolls will quickly be outweighed by people wanting to support each other, taking chances.
  • More cohesion. The conversation will become less passive and more active … people will focus less on their own experience, and more on group’s. The experience will either hew more closely to a shared vision, or depart from it with more purpose.
  • Increased likelihood of magic. If the exercise falls flat, the group will laugh it off and have a normal dinner or whatever. But if it takes off, your chances go way up of having a magical evening, a lifetime memorable trip, a communal or even spiritual experience.

If all this talk of vision statements evokes in you a mental eye-roll, you’ve probably been asked to commit (or act committed) to a mediocre one. Or maybe you’ve worked in a place where the vision statement really was great, but still no one thought about it much. For people to find a corporate vision statement both inspiring and achievable, a company’s culture needs a certain amount of earnestness. But a lot of other things need to be going right as well. It’s probably pretty rare. So vision statements end up seeming corny for reasons not inherent to them.

Whatever the genesis of all this baggage, it has caused the vision statement to become an underrated piece of social technology. The magic is in embracing the baggage. Let it be unwieldy. Toss it out anyway. Those receiving it may be just off-balance enough to start holding onto one another for support. This is why the vision exercise works better than just saying, “Hey everyone, let’s try to be present during this time together, let’s try to set aside distractions, let’s share more deeply than we ordinarily would, and make this a memorable and meaningful experience for everyone.” Suggesting a vision allows people to laugh nervously at first, while also letting their guard down, and venturing some ideas. The cynics will show themselves. Don’t you want to know who they are? And those willing to play ball will find support, and then will go further.

The vision-setting exercise lets a group author its experience together. It’s only corny if people don’t believe it. And you can get them to believe it.