Mike Farwell

While en route to the Rogers Television studios the other night, I made a phone call. I know that makes me a horrible human being in the books of some, and I apologize. But the fact of the matter is that I find the ten minute drive to the studio to be quite useful for getting things accomplished every now and again, and the other night was no exception. Still, with recent talk of provincial cell phone bans ringing in my ears, I was more aware than ever of the chance I was taking. When the person on the other end of the phone started giving me the phone numbers of some other people I should call, I knew I had to take drastic action.

I pulled over to the side of the road. I might have been able to remember one number until I had a chance to write it down later, but certainly not a handful of them. So I pulled onto the shoulder of Highway 8, just as you come off the flyover. It’s a wide shoulder and there’s plenty of room. Or so I thought. But as I sat at the side of the road, scribbling down phone numbers and staying out of harm’s way, not one or two, but several passing cars blared their horns. So much for safely pulling to the side of the road to continue a cell phone conversation.

 I’ll just assume that each blast of the horn was a blast of support.