I remember, at home in A’ali, many years ago, receiving a call from my mum which was different. I’ll describe it, if I may, to illustrate something.
My mobile rang. It was quite a big object, by today’s standards, and was heavy too. The little aerial needed to be pulled out before taking the call and all it would do was to be a telephone. It was handy, of course, being able to take and make calls when away from home, but that’s all it was: A mobile phone. It couldn’t take photographs, or play music; it didn’t have a screen which could be used to watch images, moving or still; it was, as I’ve said, a mobile phone – khalas!
My mum had shouted “I’m on the mobile!”, very proudly and went on to tell me that it worked in the village; she was currently, I learned, on the pavement, outside the Post Office. “It’s Saturday here,” she said, as if the time difference between Bahrain and England was a quantum leap. I remember smiling and answering, “it’s Saturday here, too, mum.”
The point that I’m making, though, is that mobile phones were simply that: Phones.
Last week, in England to see our new grandson, I saw a news item regarding a certain Tomasz Kroker, a lorry driver, who had managed to kill four members of the same family while driving.
He had been distracted while using his mobile, the news item said, and had ploughed into the back of the stopped vehicle at 80kmph. He had been scrolling through music, he had said. To see the father of the three children who had been killed discussing the aftermath of their deaths was heartbreaking.
Mobiles have become so sophisticated that it is possible to now use them to do almost anything; the justification for having one in the vehicle is that they are also a satnav.
The problem is that the other capabilities are simply too tempting, though, and the weak-willed, vain or stupid will allow the little attention that they possess to be sidetracked by using these other functions instead of focusing on the road. The result: Three dead children and a dead mum.
Here in Portugal, it’s quite common, unfortunately, to see mobiles in use by drivers. In the UK, less so, but still too frequent. Surely, it’s not beyond the wit of man to mandate that cars are fitted with a simple blocker? This little gizmo could permit certain functions, such as satellite navigation, but prevent others.
In the 1970s, we had the ‘clunk-click every trip’ campaign, which altered the attitudes and behaviours of the travelling public profoundly, and to good effect; similarly, drink-driving is now seen as simply wrong.
Surely, it’s time that we all woke up and just stopped using these little machines while driving? It’s not difficult! Put it away, turn it off!
None of us are indispensable; if we are, then get a driver, so that you can be available all the time, take photos or scroll through music without killing someone.