Last Wednesday, I had a hellish day. I’d been woken at 1am by a panicked call, the power went out, and one of my kids was unwell.
My partner was heading overseas for a brief trip, and I dropped him at the airport. There was horrendous traffic on the way back, so I took a toll road, and – stupidly, maddeningly – missed my exit. I found myself heading through the Sydney Harbour tunnel in peak-hour traffic on the eve of a public holiday.
The young police officer accused me of breaking the law, but he was wrong.
I almost wept with frustration. My kids were waiting for me at home. I couldn’t right my course for over 20 minutes, and when I did, I noticed a police car behind me. I made sure to stick to the speed limit, checked my maps app for traffic, indicated, and then suddenly, the police lights were flashing.
Who are they after? I wondered. I looked in my mirror. The officer was signalling for me to pull over. What? Me? Why?
I was exiting the tunnel at that point, and I had to negotiate several lanes of heavy traffic to find a safe place to stop. This was not an easy feat. The police officer stopped too, and approached my window.
My stomach dropped. “What have I done?”
He informed me that he had seen me touch my phone, which was secured in its cradle attached to the dashboard.
I nodded. “It was my podcast app. I touched the screen to bring up the map.”
“You’re not allowed to touch your phone while you’re driving.”