By Dennis Byrne
Chicago Tribune
'Now, I'd never say that," I said to a friend who had just spoken the unspeakable:
"Women drivers use their cell phones more often than men," implying, of course, that you're more likely to get whacked by a distracted woman driver than a man. "You," I said, "will go straight to the dark, infernal pit reserved for misogynists such as yourself."
Still, I had to wonder if he was right. Especially as a woman talking on a cell phone had nearly clipped my car as she made a left turn while I was waiting at a stoplight. Jerk. So, I commenced my own informal survey, observing over the last few months the sex of drivers who were yakking on their cells. My survey concluded that women cell-phone users outnumbered men 2-1, and, during some weeks, 3-1.
Of course, this is only "anecdotal" evidence, proving nothing. It led me to an Internet search of the "literature," as scholars are wont to say, of the demographics of phone users. It failed to turn up anything definitive. (Rare, in my view, is the study that's definitive, especially ones done by sociologists. Pointless, perhaps, but definitive, no.)
The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration said in a December 2004 report that men had a slight edge over women in daytime cell-phone use in cars. The report concluded that "there is no significant effect of hands-free or hand-held cell-phone use on accidents." The American Enterprise Institute-Brookings Institution Joint Center for Regulatory Studies agreed, adding that the accident risks by some previous studies may be overstated by 36 percent. They also find no evidence that cell-phone bans reduce traffic accidents.
Blah, blah. I don't buy it. How else do you explain that after the few times I've used a cell phone while driving, I can't remember driving through some intersections?
But if you want to ban a worse, more dangerous device, I'd suggest ...
Cruise controls.
That's right, outlaw that seemingly innocent device that automatically controls the speed of your car, freeing you of the laborious task of pressing your foot against the gas pedal.
This may make me the only driver in the world who thinks that cruise controls are a menace in the wrong hands. Cruise controls are supposed to be used only on straight highways in light traffic. But the cruise-control putz, like the cell-phone user, is oblivious to other drivers as he dials in a set-in-stone speed while plying crowded interstates, winding mountain roads and even city streets, his foot off the accelerator.
On an interstate, he'll pick, say, 68 m.p.h., and position himself in the left (fast) lane. Never mind that the guy he's passing in the right lane is going 67. He doesn't speed up or slow down because, by God, 68 is what he's decided to go, and no one or nothing will change his mind. Not even the growing line of cars stuck behind.
Thus, the cruise-control putz has created the dreaded and deadly traffic node. The node is best seen, as are clouds, from a distance, a mile or two back. From afar, the node appears as a tightly moving long, narrow and dark monster, making its way at a relentless pace, up and down hills and around turns. Up close, the cars are bunched dangerously close to each other, as their drivers jockey for position, some swerving into the right lane to try to cut in line farther up, and raising already frayed tempers to near violent levels.
Honk and flash their lights as other drivers might, no one is getting past cruise-control putz. One misstep by anyone, and look out for the chain-reaction accident.
Even after cruise-control putz passes the car on his right, he may still choose to stay as the fast-lane captain, despite the roadside signs instructing him: "Slower traffic keep right."
The smart, patient and safe driver (me) assiduously avoids nodes; he adjusts his speed so that he never catches up, allowing a mile of vacant highway between him and the node, until, hours later, the node somehow, miraculously, unravels.
The temptation when you pass one of these morons is to give the driver the evil eye and the bird. But don't bother; the driver probably wouldn't notice because she's on her cell.
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