Don’t click and drive!

    Okay…say you’re headed east, driving to Kansas City on the turnpike. It is early morning. The sky is clear, the air is cool, and it’s still dark.
    The day begins to brighten. Mists rise from the landscape. Light begins to creep into the sky at its eastern horizon.
    Suddenly, two deer peer out of a gully on your right—just their heads and shoulders showing. They stare as your vehicle passes, their breath escaping in clouds of vapor. You brace yourself against the steering wheel and hope no deer decide to cross the highway. Mid-fall is prime season for potential deer accidents.
    You are familiar with this road to Kansas City. You know its turns and the character of the landscape you are about to encounter.
    Dang, what a beautiful morning for some photographs! You know you should concentrate on your driving, but the landscape distracts you. There, ahead on the left, the rolling hills recede into layers of mist. The water of a small pond twinkles in the emerging light. The sky is now turning orange and red. The beauty of the moment mesmerizes you.
    So…you dig into the bag in the seat beside you, searching by feel for your camera, steering with your left hand.
    You occasionally glance at the road as you dig out your camera with your right hand and and feel for the “on” button.

.

    You divide your attention between cruising at seventy m.p.h. and using the camera's digital viewing screen to frame shots. You check the road, zoom and frame, snap a photo, and check your results—check the road, zoom and frame, snap, check your results.
    The road curves sharply to the left, so you use the opportunity to glance behind you on the left. There, still shining brightly in the morning sky, is the full Harvest Moon! You swing your camera for a quick shot over your left shoulder. You guess, because you can't aim. You check the frame. Perfect!
    The car is moving too fast to look at everything. Luckily there isn’t much traffic this Saturday morning. The veering hardly matters...except when you swerve close to the concrete median barrier.
    Dang.
    Ahead you see the turnpike toll booth. You force yourself to lay the camera in the passenger seat and put both hands on the steering wheel. You break and slow for the stop ahead. You know you’ve been driving like a maniac, but you’ve been entranced by the lovely prairie at sunrise. It’s not your fault.
    LUCK comes with the grace of this moment— you’ve captured the sunrise and lived to share it!
    You hope you’ll be a passenger on your next road trip. You wonder what it might cost to hire a chauffeur for the next time you travel.