Put the phone down and no one gets hurt

Lori Borgman

Nearly one-third of all teens admit to texting while driving, according to an Allstate Insurance ad. I just saw a woman texting while riding a bike.

Even more unbelievably, she had three kids in tow. Everybody was wearing a helmet -- safety first and all that -- crossing a busy, congested intersection at a high-end outdoor mall. The woman was a little wobbly on her bike which, I’m just guessing here, could have been because she was furiously texting with one hand on her cell.

You have to wonder what was so important that it couldn’t wait until they found a place to stop. Even texting “Having chest pains, send ambulance” is inexcusable.

Last year, a Harris Interactive survey found that 89 percent of respondents believe that text messaging while driving should be banned because it is dangerous.

So far, so good, but get this -- nearly two-thirds of those who disapproved of sending text message while driving, said they had done it themselves.

Do as I say, not as I text.

It doesn’t matter how fast you are, how desperate you are, or whether you can send messages with your eyes closed, friends don’t let friends text and drive. Period. Or text and bike.

I keep wondering what kind of discussion that woman will have with her kids one day.

“Here are the keys to the car, junior, but don’t ever text and drive. What’s that? Why do I do it? Because Mommy is more experienced. Pardon me? Doesn’t experience also mean Mommy is older? Well, yes. Doesn’t older mean Mommy’s brain is hardening and her reflexes are slowing? Give me the keys and go to your room.”

Listen, kids, the next time you see Mommy (or Daddy) driving a car or riding a bike and texting, do us all a favor -- grab the cell phone and throw it out the window. It’s all right. Honestly, it would be performing a community service and very possibly saving lives.

We’re all too addicted and too self-important. We can live without some of these annoying amenities.

Take the husband. He’s totally anti-text. I asked him the other day if he’d like to learn how to text. I told him that given his unwillingness to learn, it could take me three weeks, but I would be willing to suffer.

He informed me that he was perfectly fine without texting, and that many people live long and happy lives without the bells and whistles of technology. He then huffed upstairs and let out a howl.

“What’s the matter?” I shouted.

“Oh great!” he yelled. “Somebody sent me a text.”

It was from the kid who had overheard our conversation and texted, “Good morning, Sunshine!”

“Way to wreck your father’s day,” I snapped at her.

Last week, the son-in-law, who is even opposed to car dancing, believing that both hands should always be on the steering wheel, sent the husband a text from our kitchen about a ball game.
We were shocked to hear a chime indicating the husband had sent a text back. “That’s the first message he’s ever sent,” I said. “What does it say?”

It says, “OK.”

I guarantee you that he sent it standing on firm ground, with absolutely no distractions and both hands on the cell.

Good boy.