The digital clock below my speedometer reads 11:23. Its tiny orange lines stare back, motionless.

I press my foot down and hold it there, steady and heavy on the gas. I’m humming up the left lane of I-95: Sun glinting off the blue hood, heat waving up and over the short body of my Mini Cooper, cool air flushing through the A/C.

It’s Friday, Fourth of July weekend, and we’re headed up to Maine for a secluded stay on the beach with family. Secluded: I pause on the word, hoping Phippsburg has at least a shred of cell service.

I check the car’s digital clock again: 11:29. I can’t hold out any longer. I lean right, pull my phone from its pocket and hand it to Ellen, the heroine of this tale.

“Will you please check Twitter for me?”

Ellen taps in my annoyingly long password and opens the app.

“The Red Wings signed ‘DAlfredsson11’…do you know who that is?”

“WHAT?! They signed Daniel Alfredsson? Are you sure?”

She confirms, naming five, six, seven other credible sources. I push the Mini to 85 and let out a whooping screech, followed by a nerdy little fist pump.

And so the fun began. I gave in exactly thirty one minutes before the official start of hockey’s free-agent frenzy, and I blame Twitter.

The first news that reached me on that fun-tastic, Twitter-filled Friday.

There is a sizable stubborn cohort that says no to social media. No tweets, no Facebooking, and certainly no SnapChat.

Many do it for good reasons: the simplest of which is that they don’t want to spend their time that way. I respect that. This isn’t my diatribe about how everyone should be online — friending and posting and buying up domain names. I like people who value face time more than Facebook time.

No, it’s the group that smirks, the group that sniggers, the group that asks the same question whenever they find out about my social habits online — that’s the group that bugs me.

“So… What do you tweet about?”

I never know quite what to say, and that’s because it’s the wrong question.

“So…What do you tweet about?”

It’s the wrong question. The people that ask, they don’t get it. They don’t understand what Twitter offers, why it exists, why it is popular.

Twitter isn’t about me. I don’t tweet anything of particular importance. I’m not a visionary. My thoughts are not profound. Twitter is the community that I subscribe to; it is the river of information that flows precisely for me. I take and take and take and take and take — and then sometimes I give a little bit.

You know those moments when someone says something to you, something that just resonates? I feel that regularly on Twitter. There’s one right up there from @TheTripleDeke.

Without that group of Red Wings disciples, my hockey-watching experience is insane. Seriously. I sit by myself, yelling and screaming obscenities at tiny figures on the TV. I’m kiiind of a crazy person. But on Twitter, I’m in the trust tree — listening and hanging out with other people who throw shit all over the room when the Red Wings lose. It’s like I’m almost normal.

The best thing about Twitter? It doesn’t discriminate. If you like sports, bad TV shows, assholes on bad TV shows, news, celebrities, jokes — it’s all there. And most importantly, it’s all exactly what you choose.

Twitter feeds you stories you’d never see and offers access to people you’d never meet. In about 20 seconds on Twitter, I can find out what Malcolm Gladwell is thinking, what Charlie Pierce is writing, what Tim Tebow is praying, even what Alison Brie is wearing. Celebrities and professional athletes abound on Twitter. They talk to fans, share photos, hold contests and post the daily doldrums of their lives. It’s like having your own episode of Hollywood Insider every day, except they only talk about the people you care about. For Datsyukian fanboys like me around the world, that means I can come across photos of my favorite hockey player reeling in a big fish during the offseason.

Dangling extraordinaire @Datsyuk13 is enjoying his summer.

Twitter gives me ammunition for arguments (why Phil Mickelson won’t win the British Open this year), laughs to pass on (a Vine mashup of Peggy and Don Draper) and images or videos to spark conversation with friends (like the ridiculous chemical technology that is NeverWet). 

Twitter directs me through the inane traffic of the Internet like a string of lucky just-green lights. When I have minutes to spare in my morning routine and want a smart article to read over breakfast, @FastCompany is there with a quick blog post.

When it’s Christmas in July and NHL players are signing with new teams in a free-agent frenzy and I’m up in the boondocks of Maine…Twitter changes everything. A swipe and a quick read is all I need to check every detail, every rumor and report, and see every quote from the ensuing conference call.

All of this — everything that I receive from this amazing community — is what compels me to give back with what little I have to offer. An interesting article here, a comment on breaking news there, even the occasional blog post. My thoughts and messages pool into a bigger conversation that friends, fans, anyone can subscribe to @CameronMKittle. This is why I tweet.

And that’s the right question.