So everyone knows the smoothest ride is one where you're just cruising along at some
fixed speed, there's no action in the speedometer, the only movement is in your position, which
changes every second and moves the same amount forward every second.
I mean, you can have a nice smooth accelleration or decelleration too, like, when you're
getting up to speed on the highway you might hit the gas which doesn't feel so smooth
but then you can accellerate smoothly so that your speed increases the same amount every
second, the speedometer climbing steadily.
So if a change in position is called speed and a change in speed is called accelleration,
what is a change in accelleration called?
Or as we'd say in mathematics: what is the third derivative of position?
Y'know, sometimes mathematicians come up with really terrible confusing names for things,
like "Real Numbers" instead of Decimal Placey Numbers and "Calculus" instead
of "lookin at slopes", but every once in a while someone gets it right which is
why the third derivative of position over time is called Jerk.
And that's really how you measure a smooth ride.
If you're at a steady speed there's no jerk, if you're in the middle of a steady
accelleration there's no jerk, but when you change the accelleration there is jerk.
Like, say you're driving at a steady constant 20 miles per hour through town, and then you
hit the highway and suddenly floor it into a smooth accelleration.
You'll feel some amount of jerk during that change from no accelleration to positive accelleration,
and then if you suddenly stop accellerating because you're up to highway speed, there
will be another little jerk.
Or technically it's a negative jerk, see, when you hit the gas you get jerked back into
your seat but when you suddenly let off the gas you get jerked towards the windshield
a little.
So then you're going a constant 60 miles an hour but you see way up ahead there's
a family of deer on the road so you hit the brakes and feel a jerk towards the windshield,
and then you smoothly slow down for a bit aka decellerate aka negatively accellerate
until you reach a full stop and at that point you feel one last jerk that pushes you back
into your seat.
Everyone knows that slamming on the brakes can throw you forward so it's interesting
that when you actually reach a full stop you feel jerked backwards.
But it's an effect you can feel when you drive and to see why it happens you can just
look at slopes.
And lookin at slopes is very helpful if, say, you're filming an action scene with a car
chase and you have to pretend to get thrown around and you want to do it in the right
direction, like, say after you stop for the deer you go into reverse as hard as you can,
so you're decreasing your speed into the negative, and then you slam the brakes until
you stop again.
Which way do you feel pulled?
Well, this negative slope means negative acceleration so when we're on the gas we get pulled away
from our seat, and then when we hit the brakes the speed is sloping up from negative back
to zero, so positive acceleration means we get slammed into our seat.
Slamming on the gas to get into reverse is a negative jerk that jerks us out of our seat,
and when we let off the gas and move to the brakes we get double jerked into our seat,
first when we let off the gas and then again when we hit the brakes, and we're glued
to the back of our seat while we're braking in reverse, and then finally when we come
to a full stop we get jerked out of our seat again.
So that's lookin at slopes and you might have to think through it if you want to act
out a car chase but the reason you should bother is because people have an intuition
for calculus and they can recognize bad acting when they see it even if they can't pinpoint
exactly why.
Brains are weird like that.
Like, y'know how I'm talking using language and most of you listening can understand that
I am speaking English sentences without thinking "hey, that was a verb, let's see if I
can figure out what object it applies to."
It's possible to pick apart grammar and use terminology to analyze language and that's
amazing, but what's even more amazing is that we don't need to do that to understand
language, we just kinda do.
I don't know what's up with that but I do know that there's a similar thing going
on where people communicate with calculus all the time without thinking about the terminology
or writing out an analysis.
Like, say you're driving so close to the car in front of you that, at maximum deceleration,
your speed would reach zero at a distance greater than the distance between you and
that car.
This is called tailgating and some people do it on purpose as a method of communication,
because when you're on the road in the oppressive mass of humanity all wrapped up in our individual
bubbles of isolation, the only way we have of reaching out through the void to connect
with our fellow human beings is with these mathematical signals --- we broadcast our
rate of change to the drivers around us trusting that, from mere observations of our position
through time, they will take the first and second derivatives and predict our collision
course and hear its intended message: you too can change, indeed, you must change!
Change or perish, for that is the common fate of all living things!
How sweet the moment when we see they have received our message and indeed change lanes,
and though we may accelerate away until reaching a new constant speed, leaving them further
and further behind with linearly-increasing distance, the bond of calculus will hold these
two human souls together forevermore!
I know that somewhere, someday, that very same driver may bring themselves close to
my projected position once more, and as they cut me off I will understand their calculus
communication and shout, what a third derivative of position!
Calculus!
It's lookin' at slopes!
Look at the slopes! it's calculuuuus! (lookin' at slopes)
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