I was standing on the NYC subway the other day, packed shoulder-to-shoulder in a rush-hour car. A guy sneezed, someone else was juggling a bag of groceries, and the train lurched forward like it was being piloted by a caffeinated roller-coaster operator.
Here’s the thing: on the subway, your nose could end up anywhere. You sway, stumble, rebound off strangers, and somehow manage to stay upright. Trying to predict exactly where you’ll land on each jolt? Impossible. You just ride the rhythm.
Markets in consolidation phases are the same. Crowded. Noisy. Messy. People push and pull in different directions. The volatility isn’t clean trendlines — it’s sudden jerks, delayed jolts, and unpredictable stops.
Back in grad school, I obsessed over higher-order derivatives: velocity, acceleration, jerk, snap, crackle, pop. On a train, you feel all of them in your knees. In markets, you feel them in your stomach. One moment you’re stable, the next you’re thrown against the door because liquidity dries up or a rumor ricochets through headlines.
This is why the “Subway Index” is my new mental model for chop:
- Velocity → overall market direction. (Train’s still moving downtown.)
- Acceleration → momentum when things speed up.
- Jerk → sudden volatility spikes (you stumble into the guy with the groceries).
- Snap, Crackle, Pop → the hidden layers of turbulence that nobody warns you about until your coffee spills.
You can’t forecast every lurch. But you can widen your stance, loosen your grip, and know the ride isn’t forever.
🔗 For a technical refresher: Investopedia’s piece on Volatility reminds us that it’s not the enemy — it’s the environment.
So next time the market feels like a subway car with no handles, don’t panic. Bend your knees, breathe, and remember: you’ll still get where you’re going, even if your nose has a few unexpected close encounters along the way.
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