When running for election, many a politician promises to take on this-that-or-the-other problem and “fix it.” I’ve never heard one say “Well, elect me and I’ll take care of part of it.”

But that’s what the Oregon Legislature is about to do — address a whole problem but only “take care of part of it.” What’s more, this same issue was tackled before and wasn’t fixed then, either.

Floating through the legislative flotsam and jetsam is a bill to ban adult, hand-held cell phone use while driving. In 2007 they did that for teens but only if the officer could stop the vehicle because of another, more serious offense. In other words, cell phone use by a teen was not enough for a stop.

Now our Salem-based brothers and sisters will come up short again even if they approve what’s before them.

The rationale for what they’re doing is that hand-held cell phones are a distraction for drivers. Hands-free models are not. Road apples! The real problem is that cell phones are a distraction. Period!

Let me say this very plainly: the problem is not where your hands are. The problem is where your head is! If the issue were hands, why not ban coffee cups, hair combs, soda cans, cigarettes, road maps and curling irons?

All of which I’ve seen in use behind the wheel.

My car does not have a cell phone. Barb’s does. I’ve used both ways. It’s not the phone apparatus. It’s the brain apparatus!

Look at this procedure realistically using only the hands-free phone.

First, you’ve thought of someone to call. That means you were thinking of something besides driving already. O.K.?

Next, unless the number called is programmed to a voice command, you have to think of it or look for it. Driving is second to where your head is either way. Again.

You reach the person you’re calling. Now there’s a conversation to deal with. Information coming into your brain, being processed and a response given. And your driving is on autopilot. Again.

Let’s suppose you reach your daughter and the issue is what time she should be home. That nearly always gets an argument. So, again, your brain is processing incoming thought, coming up with reasons why your decision should be law, forming outgoing thought, speaking those reasons forcefully and, silently but thoughtfully, cussing the kid for being obstinate.

And your driving? Where was that through all this processing? Are you within the speed limit? Above or below? In your proper lane? Aware of traffic in front, back, oncoming and on both sides? Watching intersections and crosswalks and that child jaywalking chasing a ball? Tailgating? Being tailgated? Notice the parked policeman and his radar gun?

Even if you’ve not taken your hands off the wheel, you’ve taken your head out of driving for extended periods. It only takes a couple of seconds to get into trouble at 25-70 mph.

So, you’re going to tell me you can do both. O.K. Humor me here. Use your right index finger. Count each finger on your extended left hand till you reach the number 72. While doing this, sing the national anthem. Aloud. Go ahead. I’ll wait.

You can’t do it the first time, the second or the ninth! You won’t be sure the number you reached was 72. Or, if you are, you won’t be sure you got all the words to the song. If you can’t split your thinking and counting processes in the quiet of your home, what would happen if you added 3,000 pounds of metal and plastic at a forward speed of 50 miles per hour? Go ahead. I’ll wait.

Somewhere along the line, driving a car has become secondary or worse to what else we are doing at the time. Carrying on a conversation. Reading a map. Curling hair. Putting on makeup. Dealing with kids. Having a dog/cat/kid in our lap. Drinking coffee or eating a burger. Or both. Texting. Talking on the phone.

Dr. Charles Emerson Winchester in the series M*A*S*H put it in perspective. “I do one thing. I do it very well. Then I move on.” Like to have the good Dr. Winchester on a cell phone ... hands free or not ... making dinner reservations while working on your spleen?

Driving with your mind elsewhere is no less deadly. Maybe they don’t think so in Salem. But the rest of us should. And act accordingly.



Barrett Rainey is a semi-retired journalist. He can be reached at 444 N.E. Winchester, PMB 6-C, Roseburg, OR 97470