Sean Serrell writes in with a weird personal superstition:

“When I lived in Westport, CT, from 8-10 years of age, I (and this seems similar to but less exciting than the Binky finger-rays) would pretend as our bus drove home every day that I was firing cruise missiles that could ‘follow’ the driveways’ contours to the gigantic million-dollar houses that they would inevitably find at the end of each. I would press my thumb to my fist (jeopardy or scholars-bowl style) when I fired–left thumb if the driveway was on the left, right–>right. Later, lasers were added to raze the well-manicured shrubbery. I left CT on Feb. 1, 1988, and have continued to do these things whenever riding in a car–and even–reckless–driving–though now it doesn’t work like weapons–more like I’m ‘conducting’ the driveways and bushes I pass–they are the score I drive through? Ack, approximation.