We both spotted the red SUV at about the same moment. The oversized vehicle pulled well past the stop sign on our right and looked, momentarily, as if it was going to turn right in front of us.
I braced for impact. Since I was in the passenger seat, I was going to catch the brunt of the collision. It was Long Suffering Spouse who noticed that the driver of the oversized red vehicle, an overstuffed blond woman, was on the phone.
Somehow the blond woman reconsidered her intended maneuver and pulled in behind us instead. "That's probably what she had in mind all along," I said, exhaling.
"Yeah, right," said Long Suffering Spouse, not meaning it at all, and tightening her grip on the steering wheel.
Harlem is a long street and we were on it for a long way. The red SUV was matching our course and speed. Now that my eyes were open again I could see that it had somehow gotten in front of us.
"What is she doing?" asked Long Suffering Spouse suddenly. "I thought that was a phone, but now it looks like she's looking in a mirror. Is she putting on make-up?"
She wasn't. The overstuffed woman in the oversized SUV had a large economy size PDA, around the size of checkbook. My wife wasn't seeing a mirror; she was seeing a screen. The blond woman had positioned her device on the steering wheel where she might, arguably, also be able to see the street in front of her. It looked like the device might have a QWERTY keyboard... because it sure looked like she was typing. I reported my observations to Long Suffering Spouse.
"What can she possibly be typing?" asked my wife, incredulous.
I've been thinking about it ever since.
She might have been "Tweeting."
Just passed Diversey. Heavy traffic today.Well, she had slowed down considerably when she hunched over her keyboard. People were passing her, on the right. Unfortunately, we had gotten stuck behind her when her inspiration struck, and we weren't able to get around her for awhile.* * * * * * * *
No train at Grand Ave. Yaay!* * * * * * * *
People are so friendly on Harlem. Someone just waved at me when he passed. Used only one finger, though.
It therefore occurred to me that such intense concentration may not have been necessary... not for Tweeting, or Twittering, or whatever. Perhaps she was working on her version of the Great American Novel....
She gasped involuntarily as his strong, calloused hand cupped her creamy, white....Or maybe not.
Perhaps she was writing her state representative:
Traffic safety is a vital concern for all of us. You must continue to support all measures that promise to rid our streets of the plague of distracted drivers....With an attitude like this, she might be in the legislature herself someday. Maybe even Congress....