Beep-beep: Road Runner foretold life of answering the bell

The Road Runner foretold my future.

In the classic Warner Brothers cartoons of my childhood, whenever the Road Runner said, “Beep-beep,” an anvil crashed on Wile E. Coyote’s head. “Beep-beep” also preceded the coyote plunging off a cliff, getting smashed by a train or blowing up on a rocket.

I thought it was hilarious — until I grew up and beep-beeps ruled my life. Every time I hear a beep, blip, buzz or boing, I know that a figurative anvil, train or rocket is about to send me in a dive off the cliff.

Messenger beeps: “Cole, you idiot, where’s that report that was due Tuesday?” (Anvil hits.)

Email bings: “We’ve decided not to cancel you so that we can harangue and harass you instead.” (Train smashes.)

A text boings: “We need to talk. You know about what.” (Rocket explodes.)

My calendar buzzes: “Your wedding anniversary was yesterday.” (Steps off cliff.)

We politely call this state of affairs “adulting.”

In junior high and high school, bells bothered me. Mornings began with the chatter of my windup alarm clock, ringing me out to the barn to milk the cows before even the sun got out of bed.

The rest of my day was regulated by the piercing hallway bells that ordered us to homeroom, to change classes every 55 minutes, then chased us out the doors to go home. When the phone jangled, you hoped it wasn’t school or a neighbor reporting your latest misdeed.

Then, when the wall clocked chimed 9 p.m. to let you know, ding-dong, the day is done, you grumbled up to bed and rewound the alarm clock so that you could get up before sunrise to do it all over again. Yippee.

I swore that when I grew up, I no longer would be bossed about by bells.

Remember that dream we had about how when we grew up, we’d get to do whatever we wanted whenever we wanted and no one could tell us no?

I’m Wile E. Coyote chasing that fantasy — which lasted until the cellphone beep-beeped. We used to leave the phone bolted to the wall. Now we carry bips, beeps, boings and buzzes in our pocket. All. Day. Long.

Before dawn every morning, the phone both buzzes and beeps long before I’m ready to rise. If I refuse, it beeps and buzzes again. And again. And again.

The timer on the microwave bip-bip-bips when my bagel is warmed. The phone bings with email and boings when texts roll in with directives from work before I even get out the door.

The car boing-boing-boings until I snap my seat belt, and again until I turn off the headlights after I get to work.

Then my workday starts, and the klaxon clatter really kicks in. Society has segued into a series of beeps, bips, boings and buzzes. We rush from an anvil to the next train to jump on the exploding rocket. Beep-beep.

Pavlov’s dogs have nothing on us. Technology has taught us to sit up, roll over, heel and beg whenever one of our devices boings or buzzes.

The GPS bips, “You have arrived at your destination.” All I see out the windshield is another coyote cliff.

Now I know why Wile E. kept chasing Road Runner. It wasn’t because the bird would make a mouth-watering meal. It was because the coyote — like me — just wanted all that bothersome beeping to stop.

Beep-beep.

• Buzz Cole at burtseyeview@tribtoday.com, the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook or www.burtonwcole.com.

Today’s breaking news and more in your inbox