Tunnel vision

Have you heard the latest? There's a car in the making, and a real swanky one at that, which plans to use technology to monitor driver behaviour with loads of well-meaning advice.

Tunnel vision

Have you heard the latest? There's a car in the making, and a real swanky one at that, which plans to use technology to monitor driver behaviour with loads of well-meaning advice.

The jury, on whether it will end up infuriating drivers instead of helping them, is still out.

But this intriguing bit of news has opened a Pandora's box of driving stories. Many of which have become like old stamps collected and preserved, admired and traded.

Years ago, as a rookie reporter on the graveyard shift, I made acquaintance with our van driver (cabs were a luxury in the days of the hot metal type; a cattle van being the only available means of transport for bleary-eyed scribes).

The driver in question clearly believed in the benefits of multi-tasking.

No, he wasn't the sort to chat up his passengers nor did he have a cell phone to yak into.

But he used to engage in a deep and meaningful communication with his hip flask.

As a result, we've been driven perilously close to electric poles, storm water drains and, on one occasion, right into a retired brigadier's lovingly tended rose bushes past his yielding garden gate.

Our worthy at the wheel had no qualms about getting caught.

He just wasn't prepared to be the boring person who can clearly recall all the events of the night before, so every night was a new beginning for him - and us.

Offbeat interactions with such road philosophers and driving school instructors make me view the new, gyaan-giving technology with new eyes.

Never an egoistical person, I came close to achieving a Zen-like state of 'egolessness' thanks to them.

But despite their steely determination, not one of them was able to get me past 10 km/hour.

I remain an egoless but lapsed driver who suffers automotive nightmares.

Had I shot a film using cameras mounted inside the car and featuring the conversations that occurred during my driving lessons, I'd have been dropping curtseys by the dozen on the red carpet while I cradled my Oscar for best film!

I'd even fit in a Bollywood-style dance, featuring a handful of instructors who had becoming adept at jerking their heads, waving their arms and going into a series of twitches when words failed them after I repeatedly mistook accelerator for brake.

The 'speaking-car' seems just the answer to my prayers. With such a beauty to do my bidding, I'd soon be zipping over potholed roads.

I'd love to raise a toast to this marvellous milestone but I wonder if it will spell the beginning of the end for hyperventilating driving instructors and backseat drivers? Now that would be a pity.