Several of my friends have expressed an almost religious fervor on the subject. Maybe they’d seen my somewhat frayed-bristle, six-month check-up, dentist issued, Oral B in my bathroom. “How could you still use this old thing? You really have to get an electric toothbrush. You’ve got to get into the 21st century.”

Then they’d go on to expound on the virtues of their favorite brand. Everyone seems to have an opinion on the subject. And I can really appreciate many of the arguments for buzzing your way to a gum happy, whiter smile, but — As I understand it, the rapid movements allow the toothbrush to remove plaque AND loosen up mouth crud in those nasty tight spaces between teeth as brushing with a poor lazy arm could never do. Electric toothbrushes can actually help remove coffee stains and, hallelujah, can help remove bacteria that cause bad breath. (The way my friends extolled the incredible properties of these devices, I almost concluded they might slow down global warming as well.) A stat I read on some Internet health site said they reduce gingivitis by 6% over manual brushes, leading to a 17% reduction in gum bleeding. Pretty impressive, I’d say. Some oscillate. Some vibrate on a “sonic” frequency, I learned. Oh wow, I thought, like having nuclear submarine technology in my mouth. Cool beans.

I bought myself a start-up model, a two-speed, battery operated number where you could change these half-sized toothbrushes whenever they got worn out. I brush twice a day, about two minutes at a time …and I’d like to think my mouth wants to thank me.

Truth is, though, many nights, when I brush my teeth before going to bed, when I stumble into the bathroom and make faces at my reflection in the mirror, I squeeze a dab of toothpaste onto my SpinBrush, and I don’t turn the damn thing on. Not even on low-speed. I look at myself in the mirror, and make the motions the old-fashioned way: Up. Down. Up. Down. Or faster. Up-down-up-down-up-down. Or, around-and-around-and-around. Now counter-clockwise. Around-and-around-and-around. How far back can I go?

I love to hear the sound of the brush against my teeth. I could never hear this on either oscillating speed. I like to hear how the sound of the brush changes when the motion I make with my arm changes. I like thinking about cause and effect when I do this. How a simple action can change so many things, intentionally or not, before the action is completed. And, that’s no small thing.