Distracted drivers are not paying attention.

      According to an article titled “Ticketing does little to curb distracted driving: stats” in the latest West Ender, it’s been one year since Vancouver started cracking down on distracted drivers. That’s one year since my parents bought Bluetooth headsets in order to stay connected while on the road. That’s one year since that initial lull in roadside text messaging. Unfortunately, it took less than a year for our resolution towards handheld discretion to fizzle out. Within a year the police have issued $5.2 million in fines to about 32,000 people, which means, they’re doing their job in keeping us off our cell phones while driving. So, why haven’t we changed our habits? It’s because the novelty of our cell phones combined with a pressure to stay connected outweigh the rationality of a potential mishap. It’s due to our fallible invincibility complex. It’s understandable given we haven’t completely conquered driving under the influence. This is why it is not enough to know that distracted driving was linked to 48% of the traffic deaths in the lower mainland since the law was instated. It is not even enough to ticket.

      The article goes on to say that even though the law applies specifically to talking, texting, and emailing whilst driving that does not mean other forms of distraction are any safer. It goes on to list applying makeup, searching your car, and even reading the morning paper as other forms of distracted driving. Cleaning up a coffee spill was also mentioned on the list and unfortunately that’s one I am all too familiar with.

      One early morning in September a friend was driving me to work. It was the first time I had ridden in his brand new Chevy Colorado. He had had the truck for a week and was on his way to fill up his gas tank for the second time. It was a frosty morning and we had scraped the cold off the windshield. Eager to run a few errands we did not wait for the windows to de-fog completely. His side of the windshield was clear and so he backed up and out into the alley. As the truck bounced around it seemed to hit every pot hole in the lane and inevitably his coffee spilled out of his cup and onto some important job related reports. “You know, we now sell these coasters that fit into a cup holder to catch any coffee spillage. They’re called Carsters. You should look into them.” As I joked we busily wiped up the mess. He concerned over his documents and me in charge of damage control of the Colorado’s pristine interior. Is it any surprise that we drove straight into the back of a parked utility trailer? The impact was enough to deploy the airbags. Gas filled the truck and I panicked unable to remove my seatbelt and when we regained composure we crashed again, this time straight into reality. We were completely at fault but very fortunate not to have injured ourselves or, more importantly, someone else in the ordeal. Later, when the smoke had cleared we discussed what had happened. I knew that I had played a role in speaking to him and calling his attention away from the road and felt entirely responsible. Dread filled my heart. I squeamishly asked, “Was that my fault?” fighting back the tears. My level headed friend knew that I had played a role but did not blame me. “There were so many factors” he mumbled distantly, “…frost, fog, talk, spilled coffee. All of those mistakes add up. You can’t take your eyes off the road for even a second.” He was right and the statistics show that this can happen to anyone. No one is infallible. No one is immune.

      But, what if all we needed to do was start thinking like a child?

      I was about seven-years-old when I first started to pay attention to anti drinking and driving commercials. They were ominous. There were blurry images of men stumbling towards their cars. The camera would dart back and forth while he fumbled for his car keys. The driver would get into the car without fastening his seatbelt and start up his engine. Within a block he would have crashed the car and then silence: Drinking and Driving Counterattack. It was enough to scare an innocent girl straight. But, like many children, I didn’t fully understand its meaning. One day as my mother took me through a drive through she ordered us both a drink. At first everything was fine. I held the cup tray in my lap calmly. That is, until she asked me to pass over her diet coke. I was so upset I refused to give it to her. Confused, my mother took her drink out of the cup holder and started to sip on it. I screamed almost in tears, “Mom! You can’t drink and drive! Haven’t you seen the commercials?” I remember feeling both terrified for our lives and a little like a convicted criminal. I was ashamed and frightened. My mother clued in of course. “Honey, people are allowed to drink pop in their cars. They just aren’t allowed to drink alcohol.” But I could not be reasoned with. It took her a long time to convince me that only certain drinks were not allowed near cars. I was certainly mistaken but I understood the essence of the lesson that distracted driving is, and always had been, dangerous.

      So, what if we started thinking like our teenaged selves?

      Do you remember when you first learned to drive? How attentive you were to every detail? You placed your hands firmly on the steering wheel at 10 and 2 o’clock. You always wore a seatbelt. You were a religious shoulder checker. Predictably, your driving skills have improved since and over time your initial nervousness blossomed into confidence and you became a successful driver. But, for some, it did not end there and for many the evolution of your comfort mutated into arrogance and then transformed, once again, into ignorance. No longer concerned over the details the ignorant driver takes shortcuts and these lead directly to accidents. Which is why, to some extent, I am more concerned over the experienced drivers than their novice counterparts. So, what is the solution? A compromise between our over-attentiveness and  laziness: mindfulness. 

      Mindfulness is defined as bringing one’s complete attention to the present experience on a moment-to-moment basis and if practiced this could be the answer to our problems. By learning to slow down and take driving seriously we could naturally liberate ourselves from the pressures of connectivity and as a happy result even overcome all those little distractions. It sounds simple, I know. But, are you up to the challenge?

Texting and Driving Counterattack

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            I am in the process of developing a very strong unspoken bond with the Chinese community. I say unspoken because, as of late, the women I've met haven't been able to communicate in English with me. But, no matter, we seem to understand one another just fine.

            In May of 2010 I moved into Killarney, which is a predominantly Asian neighbourhood. Early one morning as I stood on Kingsway waiting for a bus an elderly Chinese woman approached me. She sat down and wrestled to unpeel her orange. We made eye contact a few times and sensing a language barrier we smiled and nodded in acknowledgement of one another. When she had managed to peel her orange she turned and offered me a portion. I shook my head and thanked her but she would not take no for an answer. She waved the orange around and gestured wildly. I thought she might drop it. Eventually, I gave in. I took the orange portion and smiled widely to let her know how appreciative I was. She nodded happily and clapped her hands together, obviously pleased with herself. Her generous spirit was highly contagious. I soon found myself digging through my purse in an attempt to return the favour. I pulled out a button, some lint, and a breath mint before I stumbled upon some pecans in a Ziploc bag. But as much as I offered she would not accept. Apparently, reciprocity was not the motivation behind this interaction.

            A few months later I was sitting at Royal Oak sky train station on my way to work. I was completely consumed with the radio station I was listening to and so it probably took me a few minutes before I saw the woman standing before me. Once again an elderly Chinese woman had approached me, however, this time she presented a handful of change. We shared a moment of utter confusion before I looked into her eyes for a clue, which is when I realized she was asking me which change she needed for a ticket. I placed a twoonie and two quarters into her palm and closed her hand. She bowed and said “Thank you! Thank you!” “Not a problem.” I replied. She turned around and headed into the station. As I sat there it dawned on me that if she did not know which coins to choose it was even less likely that she would understand the touch screen purchasing interface with or without the Chinese option. My suspicions were correct. I rushed over and was just in time to see her insert her change into the bill deposit slot never to return. Immediately realizing her mistake she searched for a button that would release her change but there wasn’t one. I felt terribly that this had happened. I should have accompanied her over to the machine! So, I fished out my wallet and removed my debit card. I swiftly tapped the screen and requested a day pass. Before she knew what I was doing I had handed her a transfer. She shook her head in recognition and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. Why had I assumed she didn’t have any other money? Was it because she approached me with no more than three-fifty in change? Or, was it because growing up poor taught me that if you lost your money you were S.O.L? Regardless, I had already made my decision. I declined her money and pointed towards the train only after properly indicating where to place her coins in the future.  She nodded, “Thank you. Thank you,” and proceeded to pull out and offer me some fruit but this time in the form of an apple. I chuckled.

            Last Thursday I was heading home on the sky train. I had decided since the weather was decent I might walk home. But before I ventured out from 29^th Avenue station I thought it would be wise to check to see if a bus was about to depart. There is hardly anything more frustrating than to watch a bus pass you by. I walked up to the timetable and discovered it would be twenty minutes before the next bus departed. Considering the walk home would only take fifteen minutes I turned to leave. But, as I turned around a Chinese woman beckoned me over. I instinctively told her that the next bus would leave in twenty minutes and walked away but she followed me. At this point I realized that she couldn’t understand me and so I repeated myself although, this time with exaggerated gestures and mimed numbers. She continued to tag along. I wondered whether she thought that I would taker her to another bus stop. She trailed behind and I slowed my pace so she could keep up with me but she slowed hers in order to stay back. We arrived at a bus stop and I told her that the bus would arrive in ten minutes. She paused and looked as though she might stand and wait and then continued walking after me. Perhaps she wanted some company on the way home for protection. Granted, it was midnight, dark and cold, and not all that farfetched. I slowed my pace further still and removed one of my head phones from my ear. “So, what’s your name?” I asked. “Thank you. Thank you,” she replied after shooing me to keep walking. I am not the type of person to walk with someone eight paces behind me. It felt uncomfortable. We are all equal after all. I persisted, “Do you live around here?” She replied in Mandarin and then it was my turn to say, “Thank you.” and look completely perplexed. In the end, she would end up walking me all the way home. When we arrived at my block I didn’t know whether to shake her hand or give her a hug goodbye. I settled on a smile and a wave and with that she disappeared into the night.

            These instances with these three Chinese women have served to remind me to live generously, be helpful, and resourcefully caring. They have brought me joy, pride, and to a certain extent even security. Above all else, they have created a sense of community in my new neighbourhood and I thank them for their inclusion. So, in the spirit of Chinese New Year, which ushers in the year of the Rabbit, I encourage you to share some time, answer a question, or even share a little fruit.

            Gung Hay Fat Choy!