END CALL

I got rear-ended a few weeks back by a woman in a VW Bug just as I was turning into a body shop to have a self-inflcited dent derma-braised from my car. Now you've got to understand that in L.A. (and I am tame in comparison) a smudge on your bumper is as bad as a mole on your rear-end -- needless to say, this poor woman's vehicular malfeasance was a pretty significant blow to my otherwise calm life; still, I shed no tears and I remained -- defiantly so -- pretty solid, given the hysterical nature of her sad story and the events leading up to this moment in her life. Still, even though she rear-ended me at 40 miles an hour while I was stopped-dead in a turn lane, I was on my cell phone at the time with my friend Brady, discussing the splendid details of his Macromedia Flash class at Santa Monica College. I think the last words out of my mouth were something like, "Holy S*&t, what the f#@$Kk!"

Now those who know me say that I'm a gadget boy and, it's true, I've been obsessed with communication gizmos since the first time I saw one of those old car phones in a rental my dad got when something happened to his car. When I say "car phone," I mean a phone with a cord that you picked up and dialed an operator with who connected you to your party for some obscene amount of money. That's right, "old school."

I lived through the old Motorola brick days -- the same phone Sonny Crockett and Tubbs used on Miami Vice. I've seen it all -- from Iridium to Paris Hilton.

Back when the cell phone craze was just starting to get going (before the time when every 12 year old had one) and people were just starting to take them in their cars and drive like idiots, I swore I would never drive and talk on the phone at the same time. It was more than just the danger element -- maybe it was just some latent Hoo-Hoo male thing -- but I felt like that time in the car, driving along the road, watching the scenery go by and taking every turn as it came along -- that was time I would never get back -- and chatting along with someone about something that really could wait, well, that was, honestly, a waste of good time.

So following my encounter with Miss Volkswagen, I swore to lay off the "Call" button while driving. It's been hard -- there are times I really wish I could take care of that outstanding call -- close that one open item on the never-ending list. Instead, I crank up the Ipod, let Her Shuffle whatever "She" wants to play, open the windows and watch the world go by. And you know, I'm much happier for it. Miss Volkswagen, wherever you are, thanks.