I have written about how much I benefited from reading "Incognito" and 'Seven and a Half Lessons About the Brain". Both books are written by experts in brain science and they emphasize that thinking is a somewhat minor activity for humans. Our brains are the body headquarters and keep all sorts of processes running all the time. Our bodies are very complex and we can't consciously keep track of everything that our brains accomplish.
When I have wanted an example of something that is habitual and active but not especially conscious, I have mentioned a trash can. For whatever reason, when I move a trash can to some other location, I retain a tendency to toss a wad of scrap paper where the can used to be instead noting where it is presently before the toss.
Lynn and I have two cars, a Honda CRV and a Honda Fit. A CRV is a full-sized vehicle and the Honda Fit is small. That means that it is possible to get both cars in our garage. I have been parking my car on the east side of the garage and Lynn has put hers on the west side. The cars are designed so that the driver's seat is near a wall for mine and near the centerline of the garage for hers. She has to squeeze between the cars but I have room. Recently, we switched sides and we have been doing better giving each other adequate room.
What is surprising to me is the number of times, I have simply gone to her car and started to get in just because it is sitting where I have habitually gone to get in my car. I open our kitchen door and walk to the "old" side of the garage. Lynn's car is tan and mine is silver. Her car is big and mine is small. But my old brain doesn't turn to conscious mode until the car I am trying to get into, won't open. Then, I look seriously at the vehicle and see that I am at the wrong one.
I carry a fob in my pocket for my car but it won't allow her door to open for me. The other day, a friend needed a ride. I have given him a ride before and he knows which car is mine. When I tried to get in the driver's seat, he had to point out that I was trying to get in Lynn's car instead of mine. See Charles Duhigg's "The Power of Habit", also.
