RV Life - Back Issues

Driven to Distraction

Once upon a time, driving was just, well, driving. Two hands on the wheel, positioned at 10 and 2, with the driver’s ever-vigilant gaze upon the road ahead. But these are complicated times. Somewhere along the way, driving transformed into multi-tasking. Our vehicles started mimicking mobile offices with all our gear in tow, and became stocked with food and drink. The following rogue’s gallery of all-too-common driving distractions contains numerous trouble-making activities that we all engage in. It’s time to change our ways, people, and restore driving to the days of undisturbed purity. That is, unless you want me to make a citizen’s arrest.

Tech-No-Logical Driving
A recent ordinance prohibiting the use of cell phones while driving here in Chicago was met with near citywide condemnation. Frankly, I haven’t seen anyone drive in this state with two hands on the steering wheel since the Carter Administration, so I hardly think cell phones are wholly to blame for our scatterbrained approach to driving. Still, as someone who occasionally travels to the big city, I’ve seen plenty of evidence of exceptionally bad, cell-phone-aided driving. Suddenly, I expect my life expectancy to go up for a change. Yes, I know how boring driving can be, stuck in one of those highways-turned-parking-lots everyday from 3 to 7 p.m. Still, you can’t tell me dialing that phone’s minuscule numbers, taking pictures with it, and wedging it between your neck folds is a safe way to motor about town. This goes double for iPods, another invention I would put into my personal “indispensable” category, but really now, I spend more time manipulating that gadget’s track wheel looking for U2 songs than I do monitoring what the semi in front of me is doing—or not doing. And don’t get me started about the guys with the advanced PDAs and fantastically cool Black-berry units, which require not only full attention, but also a pair of hands, nearly all 10 fingers, two eyes, and almost Zen-like meditation intensity to use. I love all this stuff, but using them behind the wheel is going to get me killed.

Fast Food, Fast Fool
I have no statistics about the role of eating and driving in terms of accidents. I’m guessing it’s pretty small, actually. But I suspect these folks who gorge on the go are a lot like my grandmother, people who may never have been involved in an accident but surely caused a hundred of them. Again, I admit my role in the problem, born to a family of famed knee drivers, thus freeing up both hands so as never to have to relinquish control of our Whoppers with cheese. In fact, I once saw my sister submerge to the bottom of her seat while traveling 55 mph to retrieve that last crispy French fry. Her action only confirms what we know—oily starches make us do the strangest thing. Now all I’m just saying is that in a 25,000-pound motorhome, where stopping power is greatly compromised, chronic Whopper-eating and fishing for fries are causes for trouble.

Missing (Map Skills) Link
We’re all different, as I tell my children every day. As such, we all possess our own unique set of skills, personalities and abilities. It’s what makes the world go around. Or, is that money that makes the world go around? Or love? Anyway, those piloting the big rigs or massive towables through Parts Unknown require only but one skill from that person sitting next to them in the cockpit. No, it’s not performing shadow puppets, but the ability to read a map. The ability to make wonderful conversation or always carry lip balm is indeed a plus. However, what it all boils down to, really, is even a basic understanding of how to read a map—and fold it away correctly. And if you don’t have that bit of gray matter working, all you’re really doing in that passenger seat is loitering. That, and haranguing the driver for lead footing, we surmise. Sadly, that’s of little use to us when we don’t know whether to cut off that police car to catch that next off-ramp or pull a U-turn in front of that Honda to backtrack. Hint: If you can’t read the words, the map is upside down.

Poor Diet
How does what we eat affect the way we drive? Because our overall nutrition changes how we feel, both physically and mentally. Would you agree that someone under the influence of three slammed cups of espresso might tend to drive differently than the fella who feasted on a fresh grapefruit that morning? And how does one usually feel after devouring the Hungry Heifer platter for two—all by yourself? Not good, right? Sick, grouchy, irritable, nauseous, I’m guessing. Thinking more about your colon than what that station wagon in front of you with the smoking back tires is planning to do puts us all at risk. Face it, we Americans tend to over-caffeinate, overeat, and just plain overdo it. It’s for this very reason that I won’t allow my wife to drive after quaffing down more than two handfuls of M&M’s, and that’s why I’m here to tell the tale. The sugar buzz makes her, well, a little unpredictable.

Mr. or Mrs. Big Mouth
Your spouse did something annoying—such as leaving the coffeepot on back home—and you’re simply not going to let it go. During the hour detour to return home, you’ve had a lot of time to show off your vocabulary at your significant other for that latest transgression. Perhaps he/she has heard enough of those snide comments and counters with the time you bought 12 fruitcakes from the kid outside the drugstore. Before you know it, the gloves are off. Those involved in a heated argument are like two U-boat commanders squaring off. Both stand looking at their periscopes, waiting for the other to move into position for the kill. Problem is, this tunnel vision keeps your eyes and instincts off the road. Not only is a good barn-burning throw-down ultimately hard on relationships—and the kids cowering under blankets in the back—but it usually ends up that both driver and copilot are spending way too much driving energy formulating that next big zinger. Might we recommend a truce until the destination is reached, at least until you can take the boxing gloves out of storage.

Puppy Love
Before the hate mail comes pouring in, let me first say that I am a proud, exuberant dog owner. In my own defense, I would also say that Daisy the beagle logs her fair share of time tagging along on my various adventures. OK, so most of our trips are of the pet store variety, but I digress. I would dare say that none of us has traveled without spying a monstrous pooch on his or her owner’s lap in the front seat. It’s cute, isn’t it? It always earns a smile. But what is the dog doing up there? Is it driving? Does it have a license? Do you think that the presence of that 75-pond canine will prove helpful in the event of an emergency? Will the dog know not to block his owner’s face with his butt during a fast stop? Will he claw at the windshield at the sight of a squirrel? Frankly, dogs behind the wheel have always made me a little nervous. Even Lassie, for all his abilities, was a notoriously bad driver. Just ask anybody.