Troy turned to the class, gathered at the community center. “You folks are here because you were driving and engaging in another activity. You need to be great multitaskers if you want to check your messages, talk on the phone, and put on lipstick; while driving. Most people assume they can easily juggle several activities concurrently, but I want to give you an example from a professional. Perhaps it will give you a feel for how difficult it is to handle multiple cognitively challenging tasks while your life is on the line. I am an army search-and-rescue helicopter pilot, and here is the story of a time we went looking for some missing kids.”
“The sound would have been deafening if I wasn’t wearing headphones. The chopper blades were slicing the air at 100 miles an hour; the radio frequencies were abuzz with conversion, the desert air was dry and biting cold this early in the morning. Where were the missing kids? They went on a school trip when the unexpected storm hit, rains started, and the bone-dry rivers flash flooded.
“There it is!” The medic pointed to our 2 o’clock. I could see the yellow school bus turned sideways on a riverbank, we hovered over it, smiling, but there was no joy. The helicopter continued to search along the muddy, raging river. That was when we heard the boom, immediately followed by smoke, and the stick became sluggish. Lights in the control board turned red, a hydraulic fluid pipe blew, and power was not being transmitted to the rotors. There was a sickening drop in altitude, followed by barely controlled spinning. I had to land the aircraft immediately; the question was if I could do it without crashing.
The lights blinked and went out, the navigation computer died. Only the old analog backup dials of height and speed remained. The ground came up at us fast; I had to estimate how much lift was available, count how many seconds to impact, estimate velocity, and figure out how to land so that the chopper wouldn’t roll over and kill us. If you hit the ground with no power to the back rotor, the main rotor keeps going, flipping you over. “Mayday, Mayday, owl three going down,” I called on the radio.”
Troy turned to the class, “I managed to land the aircraft with no serious injury to the crew. This was only because I could pilot an aircraft, do math, and talk on the radio simultaneously. This took years of practice.”
“We are here only because we got caught!”
“The police just have quotas to fill; that’s how I got a ticket for crossing at a red light!”
“Did you find the kids?”
Troy sighed. He caught their attention, but he doubted the message was getting through. “Yes, another team found the kids, safe and sound.”
“Look, Troy, I understand you are coming from a good place, but did you ever get a ticket?” A woman with the nametag ‘Rita’ asked.
“No, I drive by the rules,” Troy replied stiffly.
“Right, what happens when a vehicle is parked illegally, blocking your side of the road? Or when the lanes are poorly marked? Or if you have to hustle to get your kids out of kindergarten because it closes at 5 pm, it is 4:55 pm, and you were just informed the carpool isn’t coming.“
“That’s just bad planning,” Troy answered with conviction.
The day ended, and Troy suddenly remembered that his wife had the car. The participants were dispersing, and he turned to Rita. “Say, could you give me a lift to the train station?”
“Bad planning?” Rita suggested.
They got on the city streets, and Rita played some pleasant Bossa Nova music. Street lights were coming on in the twilight. A woman was walking her dog and reading the billboard signs. “Why did you do the remedial class?” Troy asked.
“Got caught not giving the right of way to a person at a crosswalk. I wasn’t endangering the pedestrian, though; he was clear on the other side of the road. It is just an easy way for the city to make money from fines, not a real offense. I was also giving a talk on zoom, but that’s just a side hustle.”
They were passing an intersection when the cell phone rang, and Rita took the call.
“Yes, honey, what’s up? Oh, I see. It is the third time this month,” then she hung up. “That was my husband; he has to cover for a colleague at the hospital and has an unplanned night shift. We have to go get the kids; sorry about that.” Rita performed a sudden U-turn and turned on navigation in a second cellphone.
“Was that a legal turn?” Troy asked with a strained voice, plastered to the right side of the car. Someone honked.
“Could you do me a favor and sit back in your seat? You are blocking the side mirror.” Rita said evenly.
They got to the daycare center at 5 pm sharp, the very last minute for pickup. It was a crowded narrow street, and all the parking spots were taken by other parents. “Listen, stay in the car, turn on the blinkers, and I will run in and get the kids. I’ll be back in a jiffy,” Rita said. Before Troy could gather his thoughts, Rita was gone, leaving the car double-parked. After a moment, Troy moved to the driver’s seat. He reasoned that he could move the vehicle if needed; it was called seizing the initiative where he came from. The bossa nova music was very chill. Then he spotted the policeman. The blinking blue and red lights stopped right in front of him.
“Sir, license and registration, please,” a uniformed officer said in a low gravelly voice; the polished name tag read Vincent.
“I am just doing a favor for a friend,” Troy stammered.
“License and registration.”
“But sir!”
“Are you going to give me trouble?”
“No, sir.” Troy could feel himself shrinking, growing smaller in his jacket. He fished in his wallet for the license, handed it over, and then looked in the glove compartment for the registration.
When Rita came back, the policeman was gone, and Troy had a ticket.
“This is so unfair! There was no parking to be had, but it didn’t make any difference to the officer! It just isn’t reasonable, like giving people gum and then expecting them not to chew.”
“I am sorry, it was my fault,” Rita said. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence. “I just have to pick up something from the pharmacy, and then I can drop you off. It is just cough syrup, band-aids, and baby powder. Could you handle the car?”
This time, Troy was smart. He parked in a legal spot 200 yards from the pharmacy. A couple was walking arm in arm under the light of the street lamps, a girl walked down the sidewalk with a cello case on her back that dwarfed her. Troy wondered how she could possibly carry it; when Rita called. He slid the car onto the street and drove the distance to the pharmacy.
A pedestrian with a white cane stepped from the sidewalk directly into the street. Troy’s instincts kicked in; he managed to stop and turn the car sideways, coming to a stop on the sidewalk.
“That was very close,” the stress draining from his body, heartbeat slowing down. Blue and red lights started flashing, and a policeman approached. It was Vincent.
“It is you again. Do you know that you nearly ran over a blind pedestrian?” Vincent looked him straight in the eye.
“But sir, he suddenly jumped in the middle of the street! If it wasn’t for my excellent reaction speed he would have been in the hospital being treated for broken bones.”
“Really? A blind person jumping in the middle of the street? That is one of the worst excuses I have ever heard. Next, you are going to tell me about the time you didn’t run over a unicorn. Stop the car on the curb, and leave your hands on the wheel,” Vincent instructed in his no-nonsense voice. Troy ended up with another driving ticket, this one for unsafe driving and endangering a blind pedestrian. He now had 12 points on his driving license, just shy of a revocation. “Looks like flying choppers for the army is much safer than driving the city streets,” he thought. He was also “donating” $500 to the city.
At the train station, Rita dropped him off and said, “You know, a good way to take care of the bad points on your driving license is to take a remedial driving course. I recommend it.”
