On my way to the trusty Red Bicycle to write today’s newsletter, I was run off the road and into a drainage ditch by a driver who veered into oncoming traffic. I’m totally fine, my trusty 2003 Toyota Corolla’s just peachy, and I suppose to their credit the driver stopped to see if I was alright. I’m so, so, sorry, she said. I was texting my friend.
Again, I’m totally fine. If anything, it’s made me appreciate how many times I’ve been that person, glancing at a text, changing songs on Spotify, realizing I’ve driven for blocks without really paying attention. We’ve all been there.
As satisfying as it is thinking I’m some influential world figure, I am, in fact, just some schmo. There’s nothing happening in my life that requires checking my phone while driving, and even if there arguably were, those assholes can wait 15 minutes. And track three on Joy Division’s first record’s plenty ok. No need to skip it. Just drive the damn car.
For the foreseeable future, my phone's remaining in my pocket when I’m behind the wheel. I encourage everyone to do the same.