The Day Texting and Driving Smacked Me in the Rear

I don’t text and drive. It’s not that I’m particularly virtuous, it’s just that I don’t text very much. I still use old-fashioned emails and phone calls for the most part. So much so that I have a phone plan that charges 20 cents per text and that’s still cheaper than buying a monthly texting plan.

When someone does text me, it’s a surprise. I figure it can’t be urgent, because anyone who knows me would call if they wanted to reach me right away. The temptation to text and drive is low.

Last week I was having a particularly sucky week. “Sucky” is the technical term for it. I was stressed out at work for reasons completely beyond the control of any and all of the wonderful people with whom I am employed. I was stressed out in other areas that shall remain nameless to protect the innocent and the guilty alike. I didn’t sleep much on Thursday night worrying about all of it, which is unusual for me.

The point is, I was frustrated and angry and very tired and feeling a bit vulnerable when I was driving home on Friday evening, glad to put this week in my – shall we say – metaphorical rear view mirror. I was sitting at a red light, at a complete stop, watching the crossing traffic in front of me roll by and minding my own business, when: Wham!

“Seriously?” I thought, as I looked in my physical rear view mirror and, rather than seeing just the week I wanted so much to leave behind, I saw the surprised look of the young woman who had just run into me. Yes, somehow my week had just managed to turn from bad to worse.

Of course, within seconds the light turned green, making it harder for us to cross the two lanes of traffic on our right in an effort to pull over to the shoulder to exchange information. I am pleased to report that, when I approached the other car and she rolled down her window, the first thing out of my mouth was, “My first question is, are you okay? Are you hurt at all?”

I was disappointed to hear that the first thing out of her mouth was, “I’m so sorry. I thought the light was green, so I didn’t look up in time.” In other words, she had been texting and driving, and as a consequence running into my car, which had survived over 110,000 miles with nary a ding. My previous car had similarly navigated over 160,000 miles without an accident before I traded it in for this one.

The good news is she wasn’t going very fast, so my car had no apparent damage, other than some scratches and an odd dent punched into the license plate. Her father’s car (yes, she was young enough to be texting and driving in Daddy’s car, and I’m sure she had a very interesting conversation when she got home) had some brand new cracks in the front bumper.

She said she wasn’t hurt. I didn’t feel hurt at the time, but the next morning I woke up with a stiff, sore neck, which has been gradually feeling better each day since.

The whole thing could have been a lot worse. It appears nobody was seriously injured, and nobody died. But that was just luck. I hope that young woman, and maybe others reading this, take this lesson to heart: Don’t text and drive. Forget about the possible stiff fine if the cops catch you. The important thing is that everything can change in an instant, and people could be hurt or even killed. No text is worth that risk.

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