I wish I could say it’s great to be back in “Cal-ee-forn-ya” but I can’t. Big Brother has taken over big time.
After many warnings from local relatives and friends, I get the message. Driving while talking on a cell phone will soon be an offense punishable by much treasure, increased insurance rates and a possible stretch in Gitmo. And, there’s an all-seeing eye in the sky-the traffic/ticket cam.
So before I left Montana to bring my granddaughter Amy back home, I spent about two hours and a bunch of dollars on new technology. I already knew I needed a new cell provider. Since Cingular is now AT&T, at least 80 percent of my calls north of, say, Las Vegas, failed to connect or disappeared in a blast of static. Unacceptable.
So I did a little survey of my own. In the small town of Gardiner (yes, that’s how they spell it), at the northern entrance to Yellowstone National Park, there is said to be no cell phone service within five miles of the city limits. This I do not understand. Outside the Absaroka Motel there are people talking on cell phones. When they hang up, I ask which service they have. All those successfully connected said Verizon. Those who were cursing and throwing their phones across the parking lot said something else.
At the Verizon store back in Bozeman I say I want to sign up and get a new flip phone. And I need it today because I’m leaving for California. What ensues is a discussion about cell usage in the Golden State. Don’t put phone to ear while car is in motion or even with the motor idling in a turnout, rest stop, passenger loading zone, wherever. And don’t think you can get by with visual scanning for patrol cars. Big Brother is watching.
Now, it used to be that a driver could avoid speeding tickets with a radar detector, and seatbelt or cell phone citations by keeping a sharp eye for the black and white. Not any more.
My daughter received in the mail from the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Dept. Superior Court Santa Clarita Valley Station, a Notice to Appear demanding $381.
Enclosed as proof of her infraction was a description of the traffic violation and four clear, detailed photographs of the rear end of her car approaching the intersection showing the red light above, the car making the left turn, the rear license plate and a rather unflattering color close-up of her clutching the wheel. So much for any excuse that the light turned red after she entered the intersection.
Contrast the cost and the infraction. A week earlier, her sister got a speeding ticket in Montana. She admitted her lead-foot leanings, said she was sooo sorry, and the officer wrote her up for 85 mph (actual speed slightly higher), and agreed to accept $20 in payment with nothing to go on her driving record. Phew!
Anyway, when motoring here on the left coast, you can be charged for driving while distracted. This means eating, breaking up a backseat fight between siblings and, yes, talking or swearing into a cell phone.
So, back at Verizon Bozeman, I invest in a Bluetooth wireless headset (actually an earpiece), which comes with its own battery charger (like I need two new AC chargers and one new car charger).
When I reach the California/Nevada border somewhere in the desert south of Las Vegas, I pull over to put in the earpiece lest I be cited for the distraction of calling for some kind of assistance, which is the only reason I even carry the darn thing. Turns out the Bluetooth and the Nokia have not been “paired” or even properly introduced. Damn.
Well, I won’t use the phone unless parked, or at least anyplace that could possibly have a candid camera.
It would be several days after returning home, and while planning a trip to Santa Clarita, that I get out a magnifying glass and try to marry the two devices. “Do you agree to communicate with each other under all circumstances . . .” This is not easy under the best of circumstances but impossible by candlelight. Yes, just to make me feel right at home, the power goes out when a semi hits a power pole alongside I-5 just north of the ranch. I had just gotten to the pairing part, described in print smaller than flyspecks, after charging up the Bluetooth’s battery. At least I hope it was sufficiently charged before everything faded to black.
New toys back in their boxes with the mini-print manuals, I vow not to drive while distracted. No wireless talking, no swearing at tailgaters, no eating or balancing hot coffee cups. Can I at least listen to NPR?
The days of carefree California motoring passed long ago, when traffic on the 405 and the 101 began oozing like sludge. Speeding is not an option, even when the most egregious distraction is listening to classical music.
Is a car idling on the freeway considered a moving vehicle? Can the hidden traffic cam tell if the car is crawling in first gear or hovering in neutral? Does it matter? I wish I could take the train. No need to be ready for my close-up.
Or beware of Big Brother.