Driving and Talking

The other weekend my partner and I did our usual Saturday run (by ‘run,’ I mean sitting in the car driving from place to place). In doing so, I experienced many people doing another one of my extreme pet peeves – talking on their phone while driving!

Now, I realise that people are extremely important these days and always need to be in touch with everyone around them at every moment of the day and night. They’re more important than brain surgeons or rocket scientists; and they need to be much more accessible than a drug lord. I remember when only doctors and drug dealers had cell phones. Now every 6-year-old has one! Even I take my mobile phone with me everywhere I go just in case someone (anyone!) should call me on the off-chance, like when I’m in the bathroom.

But there’s one thing I know and know well. I’m not so important that I have to talk on the phone while I’m driving, holding the phone to my ear with one hand, drinking my coffee or soda or vodka-tonic with my other hand, and driving with my knees. I’ve tried it. It’s not easy. Besides, you should never drink and drive (you could hit a bump and spill your drink). If I need to talk on the phone while I’m driving – such as to get directions while I’m already lost – I have a bluetooth ear piece I use. That way, I can drive with both hands on the wheel like we’re supposed to (well, okay; perhaps even then I don’t have both hands on the wheel, but at least I can look cool about it!), AND I have a free hand to flip people off when they get in my way.

At any rate, there we were, leaving the shopping center and this woman (Why is it always women I see doing this kinda stuff?? It’s such a cliche!) – she was driving and holding her phone to her ear with one hand, a cigarette stuffed in the other while pulling out of the parking lot into live traffic, cutting people off – important people like me! I had absolutely NO idea what she was using to steer the car, and quite frankly, I didn’t want to know.

This is a prime example of times when we really wish we had an awesome, domestic horn on the car – you know, the type that when you hit it says, “MOVE THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY YOU MORON, YOU JUST PISSED ME OFF AND YOUR MOTHER DRESSES YOU FUNNY!!” Instead, we have one of those foreign horns that says nothing stronger than, “pssst… pssst… excuse me…? hello…?” It’s more of an apology than a threat.

So, as she pulled out in front of us, causing us to slam on our breaks, we instinctively hit the horn to let her know that what she did was unacceptable and inappropriate. I further yelled out the window some choice words to her, telling her precisely what we thought of her driving while talking on the phone!

Unfortunately, the day was hot and our air conditioning was on, so the windows were up; and had she even been looking in our direction, I think she would have gotten the message!

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