So there's this cute little key rack that's supposed to help you ride your bike more...
Okay, let me insert this disclaimer here: If you live in suburbia and commute twenty interstate miles to work, this whole post will be as foreign to you as Tibetan throat singing or the dietary customs of the Maasai. The target demographic is people who live within a few miles of work by surface street or bike path and actually do commute or run errands by bike sometimes.
...anyhow, there's this cute little key rack that's supposed to encourage you to ride your bike more often by dropping the bike key on the floor every time you grab the car key off the hook. It does this so you actually have to pick the bike key up and hold it in your hand, thereby theoretically forcing you to at least stop and consider taking the bicycle after all.
It sounds like an effective gentle behavior modification tool, but I wonder how well the designer really knows how people work.
See, the problem is this: It's not like the prison warden screws this thing to the wall. There's nothing keeping somebody from keeping the car keys on the kitchen counter after the third or fourth annoying key-drop. Or tearing it off the wall and stomping it into scrap in a fit of pique. The only people that are going to put up with its shenanigans are probably already taking the bike or the car based on which is most appropriate for the weather and the trip.
It's like those filter tip things they used to sell to help you quit smoking; the ones that came in the gradated set of five, in increasing steps of filteriness. You were supposed to use filter one for, like, fourteen days or something, and then filter #2 for twelve-and-a-half, and then move to filter three, four, and five at designated intervals et voila! You smoke no more!
But anybody with the discipline to work through that program exactly by the instructions already had the commitment and willpower to just not stick a cigarette in their face in the first place, while anybody who wasn't serious about quitting would just toss the whole goofy mess into the drawer with the Mr. Microphone, the broken Furby, and that undeveloped roll of 35mm film from their trip to Puerto Rico in '98.
It's easy to trick yourself by accident; people do it all the time. But if you try and play head games with yourself on purpose, it doesn't work nearly so well, because you always see it coming.