Jack of All Blogs is not arguing that dexting (texting while driving) won’t lead to catastrophe…it most certainly could. However, our position is that all drivers should have both hands on the wheel at all times (well, 95% of the time). If you do not, you should be punished.

How hard can it be to create a steering wheel that sets off some sort of alarm signal when both hands are not on the wheel for an extended period of time? It wouldn’t be hard at all. In fact, it could even tie into a central law enforcement database.

This uni-tasking driving mandate sounds extreme, but when you boil it down, there is no effective way to monitor a person’s dexting activity. Plus, what about all of the road hogs who are eating sandwiches…reading newspapers…picking their noses!…reaching into the backseat…feeding a baby…playing the guitar (i saw that this morning on the way to work)…fishing inside the glove compartment…selecting music from their iPod… THESE ARE ALL DANGEROUS AND DISTRACTING ACTIVITIES WHEN BEHIND THE WHEEL.

You can ban dexting all you want, but without a way for police to prove that you were engaged in mobile device activity, it’s destined to fail.

If anyone really cared about the safety of the American driving public, they would insist upon two-hand driving legislation. It’s the way we are all originally taught – 10 and 2 o’clock. Heck, you can grab the wheel any way it turns you on, just make sure all 10 digits are wrapped around it.

Are you ready to sign the position?

P.S. – Since it’s perfectly legal, and perfectly hypocritical, I wrote this blog while behind the wheel. Ah, the irony.

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CIVILIAN DRIVER EVALUATOR

It’s a proven fact that seniors behind the wheel have deteriorating driving skills. There has been much debate if driver’s licenses should be revoked after a certain age or if mandatory re-testing should be put into place. Rather than apply a blanket rule that impacts everyone over a certain age, why not have a street force that partols roads to search for inadequate senior driver’s. These individuals are then slapped with a summons, forced to prove their driving skills to a professional, or given a court date to explain their driving violation. Perhaps all of the above.

This patrol could be equipped with cameras and would record footage of the perceived infraction. A law must not necessarily be violated; this solution would address the ‘gray area.’ Elders driving too slow (a major problem that is almost as deadly as speed), drifting out of their lane or complete aloofness.

These new positions would give jobs to qualified and deserving individuals.

There would be no uniforms, no specially-marked cars. This is an undercover operation that does not operate in conjunction with law enforcement. It’s an independent task force that would help stimulate the economy, make our streets safer, and hold senior driver’s accountable for their actions.

Please endorse me as commissioner.

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On the way, I’ll be sharing with you my experiences on one of Bloggy Network‘s other blogs- Travelogger.net. So please do join me there!

Have you been to New York, Washington, Atlanta, Houston, Las Vegas, Los Angeles? Or Tijuana?

If you’ll let me know what you want to know, I’ll do my best to help you out.

A journey like this is more than a tour through different parts of a country/continent. It’s a journey through many very different cultures. The atmosphere in south Texas is different from that in east Texas – let alone Boston! The Gullahs of South Carolina and the Cajuns of Louisiana speak a virtual different language, a creole developed back when my historical heroes still roamed their regions.

And I’ll be able to see that mighty city, New Orleans, for myself. The holes in New York City – and the collective hearts of America and much of the world – for myself. The majestic vistas of the American West. Two oceans and a gulf. A hundred different types of sand.

I’ll also get an honest idea of what the United States is like in places I’ve never visited, or at least as much of an idea as you can reasonably get in a day or two. Travel, they say, broadens the mind. I hope to wind up with at least a superhighway.

Arrr, a pirate loves travel. I’m excited about this voyage. I’ll try to resist pillaging along the way, sore though I may be tempted. Well, maybe a little. . .

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I’m an open-minded person – or at least, I’ve always thought so. My ancestry is as mixed as an old American family gets: lots of Native American, some North English, some Welsh, even some African. I don’t give a rat’s who you fall in love with or how you worship God, or if you worship a god at all.

At least, I never did. I think maybe I do care now, at least a little.

My life is very different since September 11, 2001. My boyfriend at the time joined the U.S. Navy, and we married less than a year later. He and I and our children now live largely at the whim of the government. But this is wonderful in many ways, not least of which is the travel.

On the weekend before September 11 this year, we traveled to Niagara Falls, our last chance before being transferred away from the mainland. It was amazing, incredible, and inexpressible. But something disturbing happened.

There were three women traveling together who were wearing burqha. It got my attention, particularly the one wearing full burqha in which only the eyes are visible. It was cold enough that I was a little envious at times – they had to be warm!

I saw them near the falls, with their adorable children. I saw them on the paths and walkways. They kept to themselves.

At last, I saw them at the aquarium. I couldn’t help but see them. One pushed rudely past me, apparently taking her little boy to a different exhibit.

He was wearing camouflage sweats, and carrying a toy rifle.

I had a startlingly visceral reaction to that. A rifle? Who buys their little four-year-old son a toy rifle and lets them play with it in such a public place? We had toy guns when I was a kid, but my mother would have skinned us if we took it to, say, the grocery store. And that was thirty years ago.

Is it really good for children to encourage comfort with even toy weaponry in public? From what I know about psychology and desensitization, I have to say no. And I’m reasonably comfortable with guns.

I surreptitiously watched the kids pass the gun back and forth. It was clearly a favored plaything. I guess they were playing soldier, the little girl and the little boy. And I watched them weaving in and out between my kids and other kids of a dozen nationalities and skin colors, and I wondered what would happen in twenty years.

Are my kids going to be seen as prey? Are these two little Muslim children, beautiful as angels, going to be the murderers of my sons, or of the sons of other women?

How dare these women, mothers themselves, let their children bring weaponry – even toys – around other children? How dare they make the rest of us think about this? Make us see their beautiful children as potential murderers? Our own beautiful children as potential victims or soldiers, or the parents of victims?

The little girl, hearing her mother call, dropped the gun quite near me, under the tidal pool exhibit, and ran to the woman. My eleven-year-old son, blissfully unaware, stepped up to the exhibit, standing right in front of the gun. And the Muslim mother – the one in full burqha – hurried back into the room, clearly seeking the toy.

I knew perfectly well where it was. But I didn’t move. I made her look for it, past my son’s feet, and reach past him, murmuring something in her language as she did – excuse me? Stupid infidel child? I have no idea. But it bothered me that my son was no more than an obstruction to her. That earlier I had been no more than a thing to be brushed past.

I had observed all of them, children and mothers, as humans, as people who hide fascinating stories that I would love to hear. But by the time I left the aquarium, after several more negative encounters, I wanted nothing to do with them. The children – tragic. The mothers – a threat to my own children. All of them together – dangerous.

This is why we cannot solve our problem today. This is the issue. Both sides must reach out, must talk and understand, in order for peace to be achieved. But what I see is one side smiling with outstretched hand to shake, and the other side smiling and asking, “Will you submit?”

I will not.

I will never.

And sometimes, rarely, I wonder which side is which.

Though I don’t want to become less tolerant, less fascinated by other people, I will do what I must to protect my children and their free future. That, folks, is my number-one job, and the number-one job of every other mother in the world, whatever her politics or religion or nationality. I would kill to do it. I would die to do it. And, I admit, I would sacrifice the children of others to do it, horrible though that is. Can any mother say she would not?

Was I right in my reaction? I don’t know. I only know how I felt and how I feel. I am surely not the only one.

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