Nobody taught me to move over for stopped cars.
I learned it riding next to 18-wheelers eight hours a day. They ease over for a shoulder, every time, and after enough years my hands started doing it in my own truck, off the clock, without a decision.
That's the part worth sitting with. Not the courtesy. The transfer.
I didn't choose that habit. I absorbed it from the lane I ride in.
You already know a version of this. It's why you talk like your hometown and worry like your mother.
And it works in every direction. Ride next to patience long enough and you get patient. Ride next to outrage long enough and you get outraged. The feed you scroll, the three people you talk to most, the room you sit in forty hours a week. All of it is a lane, and all of it is transferring, whether you signed off on it or not.
Nobody is immune to proximity. The only choice you get is what you park yourself next to.
The one thing:
Look at your lane. What has it been teaching your hands to do?
Josh
P.S. I'm doing the 30-day Ash Journal myself right now, in public. One page a day, no edits.
Five minutes. One prompt. One line of ash. The first seven days are free: truevitalyou.com/journal