My neighbors are horrified. They know I work for a newspaper. That's why they seem stunned as they watch, almost every morning, as I drive right over the newspaper in my driveway on the way to work.

Many days it stays right there, complete with multiple tire tracks, until I pick it up and throw it in the trash unread.

Even the guy who mows my lawn worries. He faithfully picks up the newspaper and puts it by the front door, hoping I'll get the hint.

My neighbors can stop worrying. I still read the newspaper. Test me if you like. Most days I can tell you about the school crisis story on Page B11. I can discuss the obituary of the guy who once raised parrots. I can even quote from the advice columns.

Most days I read the newspaper online. But anyone who knows me will tell you that despite my job of writing about technology, I'm as old-fashioned as an Easter bonnet. Besides, the printed page has paid for my upkeep during the many years I've worked for newspapers and advertising agencies as a writer. I love the printed page. If you looked beside my bed on any given day, you would find a disorderly stack of books and magazines.

So what happened? Why did the newspaper become roadkill in my own driveway?

You can blame it on three things: the Atlanta Braves, my old-guy habit of going to sleep before 11 p.m. and progress. We'll get to progress in a minute, but let me first explain about the Braves and my early bedtime.

The Braves are my soap opera. I don't miss many games. If watching the Braves were a paying job, I could stop all this typing and live comfortably without writing another line. But like I said, I go to sleep early. So when the Braves play a night game on the West Coast, I just can't stay awake to watch.

Sometimes those games go so late that the newspaper in my driveway doesn't have the story. That was the start for me, beginning a few years ago. When there was a West Coast night game, I would read about it online. That got to be a habit. Gradually I began to read all the Braves stories online, even when I watched the game on TV or in person.

Then, since I was already reading the sports section online, I began checking other parts of the newspaper. Before long I was routinely reading the entire newspaper online. That's when my printed newspaper became roadkill.

At first --- truly --- I felt guilty reading a story online instead of in print. But like any acquired taste, it got more and more natural over time. Nowadays, it seems almost as satisfying to read a long story online. I am not alone on this path toward online news.

It doesn't mean most of us are reading less news, if my own habits are any clue. There's been a real shift in how we treat the news and newspapers. On any given morning, I glance at newspapers from around the world using links on the Drudge Report site (www.drudge.com). Then I check newspapers in places where I've lived --- Arkansas, Tennessee, Missouri and Oregon.

I add to that list when there's a big national story. When Lori Hacking disappeared in Utah, I followed the reports in The Salt Lake Tribune (www.sltrib.com). When Scott Peterson was charged with the killing of his wife, I checked The Modesto Bee (www.modbee.com).

There's something about going to the source of the story that seems important. You pick up the small bits of information that aren't significant enough to be mentioned in the wire stories. Yet like a tiny decoration in the weave of a rug, those small details add to my understanding --- or, in some cases, to my confusion.

All newspapers, no matter how small, have become national, even worldwide, publications.

What I am saying here is that I no longer worry that online newspapers will be the death of my business. I now believe they'll be the salvation of it. If the shift continues, and the online side of the business begins to eclipse the printed product --- and I think that day is a long way away --- the readers may be the winners.

Will they lose something, too? Yes. Any new technology brings with it powerful gifts But it also takes something away that can never be replaced when it begins to eclipse the old. Humans once sat by the fire and told long stories, and there was a richness in the words that the printed page couldn't touch. But the printing press turned oral storytelling into a quaint pastime. It is the same with music. Families once gathered by the piano to sing. That's mostly been replaced by the pure tones of a CD player.

There's no reverse gear for life. It's very possible that my grandchildren will get their news at the speed of light. Maybe the words will appear on a viewer worn like a pair of eyeglasses or through some yet-to-be-invented device that seems to imprint the words in their brain.

Maybe by then we'll find a better use for trees than making paper. Bill the Old Guy hopes not. But Bill the Braves Fan wouldn't bet against it.

tecbud@ajc.com