If patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel, then death is the only refuge of a camera-craving road safety campaigner. As far as these well-meaning advocates are concerned, if a single roadside surveillance device saves a single life, then it’s fully justified. Never mind scientific distinctions between “speeding” and “inappropriate speed.” Never mind government studies that place red light running near the very bottom of the list of accident causation. Never mind concerns about the erosion of personal privacy. One life trumps all.

In fact, when it comes to red light cameras, it’s 850 lives. The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) estimates 850 people were killed by motorists running red lights. The number looks– is– horrific, but it’s slightly less than two percent of all 2006 U.S. traffic fatalities. Throwing resources at this area of road safety seems, at best, counterintuitive.

Of course, red light cameras are one area where the money spent is dwarfed by the money the system generates for its operators– both civil AND commercial. It’s a paradigm that helped convince some 250 U.S. communities to install red light cameras, with California and Texas leading the way.

Campaigners are delighted. Richard Retting, senior transportation safety engineer for the Institute of Highway Safety (IIHS) claims “the jury is in”: red light cameras save lives. But the IIHS’ recent and highly touted red light study followed a two-step approach. First, researchers extended the yellow light cycle. THEN they added red light cameras.

The study claims that violations dropped by 36% after the yellow light change, followed by a 96% reduction in the remaining violations. Yes, but– the IIHS failed to provide any data whatsoever on actual accidents.

And no wonder. In the last six years, Washington, D.C.’s red light cameras caught over 500k violators, generating some $32m in fines. The Washington Post unearthed the resulting safety stats. 

“The number of crashes at locations with cameras more than doubled, from 365 collisions in 1998 to 755 last year. Injury and fatal crashes climbed 81 percent, from 144 such wrecks to 262. Broadside crashes, also known as right-angle or T-bone collisions, rose 30 percent, from 81 to 106 during that time frame.” 

If road safety campaigners are going to manipulate data and then say it doesn’t matter because a single life may be saved, opponents should be free to discuss the camera’s impact on personal freedom without recourse to scientific fact. Because with each camera install, no matter how “good” the case for a particular system may be, we lose a bit of our freedom.

Make no mistake: red light cameras and fixed speed cameras raise important constitutional questions. Does the presumption of innocence that forms the backbone of our judicial system extend to electronic surveillance? How can it be argued that a camera monitoring the speed and/or position of every car that passes does NOT violate that tenet?

A Georgia car owner who swears they weren’t driving when their car was caught by a red light camera can sign an affidavit to that effect, and avoid the fine. But they must also name the person who ran the light. What happened to their right to remain silent?

The Constitution of the United States specifically prohibits the government from conducting “indiscriminate search and seizure.” What could be more indiscriminate than a red light camera watching every single car that passes?

How about a live video camera that monitors the speed of every single car that passes? Or one that can instantly read and identify every license plate, connected to a network of such devices?

Ask the people of Great Britain. The government is adding hundreds of automatic number plate recognition (ANPR) cameras to their roadway system– complementing the tens of thousands of surveillance cameras installed in virtually every municipality in the entire country. Great Britain is now the most surveilled country on the face of planet earth– and their road safety is decreasing.

Now that the English are finally rebelling against the “safety camera” system, the government is sure to change tack and switch to video speed cameras. They can then claim the cameras are an important aid to anti-terrorism. But it can also be argued that red light, fixed speed, surveillance and ANPR cameras are a slippery slope to government tyranny.

Years ago, I was setting up computers for a training session for local police detectives. We talked about the burgeoning on-line world, replete with stalkers and all the rest of what’s truly bad about the ‘Net. As I was about to leave, I naively remarked to one detective: “Well, I don’t do anything wrong, so I’ve nothing to hide.” His reply woke me from my innocent mental slumber: “Don’t be so quick to give up your freedoms.”

Allstate is currently blanketing the videosphere with ads touting “accident forgiveness.” Watching Allstate's viscious vérité, my mind drifted to our prodigal curmudgeon and part-time EMT. I wondered how Stephan Wilkinson would categorize the causation of the twisted metal carnage he's encountered: “accidental,” “avoidable” or just “brain dead stupid?” Allstate's willingness to forgive accidents sounds all warm and fuzzy, but given the potential advantages of apportioning blame, is it really such a good idea?

I remember following a speeding (precapitalization) Mini in my Mazda RX4. No sweat. I knew the route so well I could’ve driven it blindfolded. Which was just as well. The two lane blacktop was shrouded in dense fog. I knew Mini man wasn’t local, and so, heading for trouble. Sure enough, he missed the corner entirely, drove straight into the barrier, bounced across the road and smashed into a wall.

No one was hurt. But if they had been, they wouldn’t have had my sympathy. I’m not an anti-speeding zealot (far from it). I simply believe that anyone who drives "faster than conditions allow” (weather, car, road, traffic, etc.) is responsible for what happens next.

Taking that a step further, if the Mini had bounced across the road into the path of another vehicle, I would hope that the car coming from the opposite direction would be aware that drivers in the fog might cross into his or her lane, especially in a tight turn, and be prepared to take evasive action.

At the other end of the spectrum: Mrs. Wilkinson’s accident. As previously chronicled by SW, she was stationed in her proper lane when her car was rear ended by an inattentive SUV driver. Calling that collision, or the Mini's crash, an “accident” is a complete misnomer. Both events were entirely avoidable.

Which brings us back to Allstate’s forgiveness offer. While the ads show horrific incidents involving entirely blameless drivers, the copy expressly states that policy holders’ rates won’t go up “even if it’s your fault.” In that case, shouldn't we be seeing these accidents from the other driver's perspective: the idiot who caused the collision? He's the guy who really needs Allstate's largesse.

Now I could bang on about the wider cultural issue: society’s move away from any clear notion of personal responsibility, towards the vague idea that we should “forgive” people for the “accidental” consequences of their bone-headed behavior. But I want to stick to the automotive realm.

What would stop Allstate from investigating an accident and determining a suitable penalty— or reward— for their policy holder's driving? In other words, if a collision wasn’t your fault, your rate wouldn't increase. If it was, a rate increase and mandatory (and meaningful) driver’s ed would follow.

Of course, the government’s supposed to be responsible for identifying and punishing bad driving. Clearly, in the majority of cases, this isn’t happening. While accident investigation has become a reputable and reliable science, the instigators of avoidable, non-fatal accidents seldom face investigation, suspension or remedial education.

Even more worrying, police officers are happy to point speed guns at hapless motorists driving well within the realm of safety (no matter what the speed limit sign says), but seem strangely reticent to ticket motorists for sloppy and/or inattentive driving. Time and again, I've seen drivers commit moving violations right in front of a police cruiser without any reaction whatsoever from the officers [who may or may not be] watching. 

According to The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, U.S. traffic deaths reached a 15-year high in 2005: 43,200. Obviously, the stat must be seen in context of the huge increase in total passenger miles traveled. But the fact remains that many of these accidents were caused by motorists who lacked the skills needed to avoid them. Or, to put it more bluntly, crap driving. Someone somewhere should be held accountable.

The driver is, obviously, first. I reckon any state that doesn’t permanently ban a driver convicted of vehicular homicide is criminally negligent for any later injury. Next up: the people responsible for training these lousy drivers. Driver’s ed needs to be state-regulated, with a pass rate no higher than 60%.

Then the licensing authorities must answer for their actions. Then, perhaps, law enforcement should be taken to task (for not catching the killer drivers earlier). Then, maybe, the legal system should face inquiry (how many times have these murderous drivers been “in the system”?).

For their part, the insurance industry has decided to stay above the fray and paint themselves as the safe driver’s friend. And yet they’re more than willing to "forgive" the ones that aren’t safe. In truth, Allstate's no-fault forgiveness policy tells potential customers “Never mind that you drive like an idiot and could kill someone. Let's just call your smash a Mulligan." That’s Allstate’s stand. What’s yours?

There I was, flying down a German autobahn in a VW Phaeton, bumping up against the car’s electronic limiter. I glanced at the rear view mirror and moved over. A modified M5 streaked by at over 180mph. I say modified because BMW is part of a “gentleman’s agreement” hammered out in the 70’s, when Germany’s Green Party wanted to impose speed limits on de-restricted autobahns. Mercedes, BMW and Audi all agreed to limit their products’ top speed to 155mph. The idea that other countries could build automobiles capable of cresting 250kph somehow escaped everyone’s attention. As, eventually, did the entire speed limit issue.

At the time of the agreement, the majority of the automobiles plying Germany’s highways weren’t particularly clean or mind-numbingly fast. Some thirty years later, the tailpipe emissions produced by Germany’s increasingly modern automotive fleet are virtually sterile. And there’s hardly a new vehicle sold that can’t comfortably cruise well over 100mph— from diesel delivery vans to four-cylinder passenger cars. And so they do. At the same time, BMW, Mercedes and Audi all build mainstream models that could easily exceed their 155mph e-limit. And so they do, once a friendly tuner remaps their ECU. (FYI: Porsche never joined Club 155.) Clearly, German gentlemen kick ass.

Today’s German greens are also in butt kicking mode. Now that cars no longer belch significant amounts of harmful pollutants into the atmosphere, environmentalists are taking a new angle of attack: carbon dioxide. They claim that automotive CO2 emissions help reduce the Earth’s natural cooling, which causes global warming. This concern has resurrected the Green Party’s attack on automobiles in the same way that studies on the harmful effects of second hand smoke on non-smokers reignited the anti-smoking movement. Throughout the European Union (EU), member states are busy imposing legislative measures designed to restrict vehicular CO2.

The greens also have a new champion: Andreas Troge. The President of Germany’s Federal Environmental Agency (UBA) is a long time auto industry critic. For example, at a 2004 conference on environmental sustainability, Troge lambasted carmakers for using technological innovation to increase engine performance, rather than reduce fuel consumption. Last Thursday, Troge called for a 75mph speed limit on all German autobahns. He declared that the move would reduce Germany’s carbon dioxide emissions by 30 percent.   

The speed limit proposal is best seen within a much wider and more vigorous debate. The EU is currently trying to “convince” Germany to radically reduce its CO2 emissions. Specifically, the EU wants the German federal government to impose tougher CO2 restrictions on its power providers. Germany’s four largest utilities have rebelled, warning that any such concession will reduce energy supplies, eliminate jobs and increase prices– which are already the highest in Europe. Whether the autobahn speed limit will be a successful part of a growing environmental movement or nothing more than a doomed sideshow remains to be seen.

I’d bet on the sideshow. No less a personage than Germany Transport Minister immediately dismissed the 75mph speed limit [almost] out of hand. “I am committed to a reduction in emissions,” Wolfgang Tiefensee proclaimed. “But a general speed limit on open stretches of road does not make sense.” Tiefensee and his supporters assert that autobahns are environmentally irrelevant; they account for just two percent of German roadways. Defenders of the status quo also maintain that derestricted autobahns help the national automobile industry develop better and safer automobiles.

While the exact correlation between allowing 100mph+ driving on long straight roads and increased automotive safety may be a bit unclear, the underlying sentiment is not. Even without considering the merits of the safety argument, the fact that such a counter-intuitive justification can be mentioned in public without widespread condemnation highlights the enormous cultural importance of Germany’s derestricted autobahns. In other words, planet, schmanet. Don’t EU be messing with our autobahns.

Remember: Germans are a people who won’t jaywalk– even if there isn’t a car anywhere within sight. They can’t run their washing machines or wash their car on a Sunday– in case the noise disturbs their neighbors. In the main, they like rules. But they also like their autobahns. And that's because the roads liberate them from stifling peer pressure and governmental dictat, giving them a rare chance to explore and experience their individuality. Not to put too fine a point on it, German drivers revel in the sheer joy of accelerative release. The derestricted autobahn network is a precious bastion against soulless conformity.

That will one day fall victim to political conformity. While environmentalism is not likely to slow down German drivers, safety legislation will. The European Union is about to harmonize drivers’ license requirements across national boundaries. It’s only a matter of time before Brussels standardizes Union-wide road safety regulations. Reigning-in Germany’s derestricted autobahns may be the last step in this process, but it will also be one of the most significant. And regrettable.

In the late 70s, Dutch traffic planner Hans Monderman experienced the kind of insight that gets people sent to an asylum. ”Let’s eliminate all traffic signals and signs and remove the divisions between the road and sidewalk where cars and people interact. There will be fewer accidents and traffic flow will improve.” Monderman’s approach seemed completely radical: roads that seem dangerous are safer than roads that seem safe. The concept was a smack in the face of convention.

Accepted traffic planning methods date back to 1929, to Radburn, New Jersey. The residential area was launched as ”The Motor Town of the Future.” It was, in effect, a study in near total human/traffic non-interaction. The reasoning was obvious: cars are big, fast and hard; people are slow, soft and fragile. Segregate the two and people can walk safely and cars can move quickly from A to B. The result became a model for road planners in all developed nations and a blueprint for the world.

The system had an unintended consequence: endless stop-and-go. Where drivers and pedestrians [eventually and inevitably] interact, they both face countless interruptions to their natural flow. They have to stop. Monderman’s counter theory: go slower to move faster. To help road users go with the flow, Monderman recommended bringing cars and people into greater proximity– without signs or signals. Monderman argued that human contact through the windshield creates a self-regulating and efficient traffic flow, as users negotiate with one another for right of way.

Monderman’s ideas were met with near biblical outrage. The Dutchman persisted, until the Netherlands gave him permission to test his theories. In several Dutch towns, engineers ripped out signs and signals, flattened sidewalks and created radical new road-flow patterns. The result: a statistically verified reduction in accidents and fatalities. Monderman’s success with ”human contact flow” has lead to changes in roadways throughout the European Union and the U.S.

An American named Walter Kulash added to the growing ”liveable traffic” (r)evolution. The Senior Traffic Engineer at the Orlando community-planning firm of Glatting Jackson Kercher Anglin Lopez Rinehart Inc. saw that outdated planning had created islands of inactivity in both suburbia and urbia. At night, downtown areas are abandoned. During the day, outlying residential districts are desolate. People spend a lot of time driving from one to the other, usually negotiating traffic snarls.

Kulash believes in creating more efficient habitats, by manipulating street geometry and introducing mixed use of space. Working with planners intent on transforming West Palm Beach from a dead end darkworld to a 24-hour address, Kulash helped create a liveable town out of what used to be shops and parking spaces. Developers have seen property values increase three and four-fold after Kulash’ interventions. His traffic-calming and urban design methods are helping create numerous ”liveable traffic spaces” across North America, where people work, live, shop, play AND drive.

Monderman’s flow generation and Kulash’ traffic calming principles could trigger a shift in automotive tastes. Transportation analysts estimate that the average U.S. vehicle travels roughly 30 miles a day. Encouraged by the ”New Urbanism” planning scene, drivers may finally abandon the idea that their cars must be capable of transcontinental transportation, and shift to lower speed plug-in hybrids and electric vehicles. Rising gas prices and increasing environmental/political consciousness will only accelerate the transition.

A year ago, I asked Walter Kulash’s opinion about a car platform bound for the U.S. Kulash said that the new car fit within his critical ”effective turn-radii” requirement; it would be able to get around the new townscape with ease. In other words, Kulash is creating roads where big cars are as out of place as a sumo wrestler in a ballet troupe.

To conform to American tastes, these vehicles would have to be small on the outside, yet feel big on the inside. The Nissan Versa understands the equation. But the genre needs a premium player to overcome the stigma of ”small = cheap.” In that regard, the long-delayed SMART car is the one to watch. Originally planned as an EV city runner, the Smart cars now sip gasoline. Don’t be surprised to see the platform get new drivetrains as DCX reaches for profit opportunity.

The rise of car sharing companies like Flexcar and Zipcar also show that a growing percentage of drivers are willing to abandon the gratification of ownership for the ease and economy of more practical personal transportation. Where these companies are going, the majors should follow. American carmakers would be wise to adjust their future products to match this merging of urban and suburban environments.

The Big Two Point Five should build products that exploit the new, more people-friendly asphalt paths through our streetscapes. By catering to the switch from gas-guzzling land yachts to economical, environmentally-friendly runabouts, Detroit may discover the economic reinvention it so dearly needs.   

I was born in 1965, entering the world at more or less the same time as the Porsche 911 and Ford Mustang. I learned to tune engines with a timing light and my ear. I look back nostalgically on the days when I could lift a hood and identify most of the parts within. Given the modern car’s complexity, it’s difficult for me to agree that this is the “golden age of motoring.” While I’m not comfortable with this chronological appellation, the argument can still be made that there’s never been a better time to be on the road.  

According to the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety (IIHS), American motorists are safer than ever before. Between 1975 and 2005, the IIHS reports that deaths per 100,000 vehicles declined by 29%. In the same period, motor vehicle deaths among children under 13 sank from 3643 to 1519– despite the addition of millions of people driving millions of cars on American roads.

This safety increase comes from a number of improvements. Driving laws have become more restrictive, especially in the neighborhood of children’s car seats and adults who thought it was OK to have “one more for the road.” Cars have also become more robust. Passive restraints, extra brake lights, meatier bumpers and other assorted suggestions from the both the market and the federal government may have (gasp) worked. The legislation hasn’t always been welcome-– GM, Ford and Chrysler tag-teamed every major safety regulation-– but the results speak for themselves (without relying on a ghost whisperer or medium).

Although it doesn’t always feel that way, we’re driving better cars. Their strength, complexity, efficiency and reliabilty has increased at every level, from tire technology to engine management to the roof’s structural strength. An average car now has as much computer power as the whole country enjoyed in 1965. On-board number crunchers monitor dozens of mission critical dynamic metrics and make near-instantaneous "decisions" based on the data: modulating brakes, acceleration, fuel mixture, valve timing and all kinds of other things I don’t know about because, again, I don’t recognize anything under the hood.

Despite (or because of) this complexity, Americans are holding onto their cars longer. In 1975, the Federal Highway Administration reported that the median age of an American automobile was 5.4 years. By 2003, U.S. car owners held onto their car for an average of 8.6 years. (Light trucks follow a similar trend.) There are dozens of factors contributing to the growning length of this man/machine relationship. Obviously, a new car's acquisition cost is factor number one. But the trend also suggests the cost of ownership has declined significantly. Simply put, new cars aren’t rusting and busting as quickly as their “me era” ancestors.

The Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) is another source of good news. The EPA reports that adjusted average passenger car fuel economy has risen from 13.1mpg in 1975 to 21mpg in 2006. At the same time, average horsepower has climbed from 137hp to 219hp. Zero to 60 times have dropped from a languid 14.1 seconds to a none-too-slothlike 9.7 seconds. The nation, on average is clocking 0 to 60 times within a second of the original Porsche 911.  

So cars are safer and faster while attaining greater fuel efficiency and reliability. Do we thank wondrously beneficent car companies or the wisdom and courage of the United States Congress? If neither of those choices seem more plausible than car fairies, consider choice itself. The sheer number of products available to the American consumer has risen dramatically. In 1975, the Transportation Research Board assessed all the cars and light trucks for sale in the U.S. They looked at 125 models. In 2006, there are 412 different kinds of cars and trucks in need of a warm, dry garage.

There is, literally, lots more choice. In terms of market efficiency, more choice is always more better. Choice leads to competition, which stimulates product improvements and innovations. The market forces the changes that people desire: faster, cheaper, safer, cleaner. The feds applied pressure and car-makers have bent, but it’s the market that’s created the dramatric upward curve in automotive safety, performance, environmental friendliness and price. 

Of course, none of this is bound to impress nostalgic pistonheads, myself included. I find it impossible to gaze at a ‘60’s Jaguar E-type or Plymouth Barracuda and not smile, sigh, nod and lust. Thankfully, the best [noisy, smelly, inefficient and unsafe] cars of the past remain with us, dutifully pampered and preserved. They’ll be fine. Meanwhile, it's not easy seeing past the soap shaped blandness that makes up the majority of vehicles on today’s road and concede the obvious fact that cars have never been better. As much as I hate to admit it, the dull but worthy cars of the present also deserve a large dollop of praise. Done.

As a young man, I developed a profound distain for a neighborhood Corvette owner. Every week, he rolled his beautiful brand new C4 onto his driveway to hand wash the car and service the magnificent engine. When the washing ritual was done, the Vettophile slowly paraded the glorious machine though the neighborhood, and then carefully returned her to his garage. A waste of adrenaline stoking pleasure, to be sure, but the Vette owner’s behavior highlights an interesting, oft-overlooked aspect of automotive safety.

In a college industrial psychology class, we studied a California business that suffered significant losses from forklift accidents. A consultant advised the business to assign operators to specific forklifts. More radically, he convinced management to let the drivers personalize their wheels. The operators named them, painted them and blinged-out the forklifts to their heart’s content. Forklift accidents sank to zero virtually overnight. The operators’ efforts to personalize "their" vehicles created an emotional investment in the welfare of the equipment, which motivated them to become safer drivers.

Does this mean that pistonheads smitten with their rides (like our garage queen Vette guy) are less likely to drive like hoons? Maybe. Maybe not. It’s fiendishly difficult (read: expensive) to quantify and separate the huge number of overlapping variables that can have a profound affect on driver behavior: age, income, geography, driver training, driving skill, personal psychology, vehicle type, level of “emotional attachment” and so on. In the absence of hard data, common sense applied to anecdotal information is about as good as it gets.

For example, would anyone in his or her right mind dangle their beloved baby out the balcony window of a five-star hotel? Of course not; only a disturbed pervert would do such a bizarre thing. Likewise, a caring pistonhead would not knowingly endanger a car he adores. Sure, “knowingly” is a gray area. Some of us like nothing more than roughhousing with our machines. But common sense still suggests that the Vette owner's careful husbandry can be extrapolated into a theorem: we’re less likely to endanger a cherished whip with out-of-control recklessness.

Consider the obverse: if we don't care about the vehicle we drive, it becomes easy to thrash it. A dealer once asked me to name the fastest car in the world. “A rental car,” he pronounced. Fair enough: rentals are the automotive equivalent of a one-night stand. Other than the embarrassment of returning a broken car to the agency and the cost of a deductible, what do we have to lose if we ruin a rental car? Nothing. No wonder pistonheads tend to drive them like they stole them.

Likewise, I’d like to see some stats on the accident rates involving short-term leases. Like so-called serial monogamy, a leased car doesn’t require a “real” commitment. Why slow up and take care? After all, you're only going to have the car for a year or two. No matter how badly you race the engine or stomp on the brakes, they’ll be good enough until you get a new ride.

Speaking from statistically irrelevant personal experience, a car doesn’t have to be expensive, luxurious, quick or sure-footed to engender its owner's love. Years ago, I parted with a 16-year-old Toyota Camry. I loved that rolling piece of crap. My blood, sweat and tears were in that machine. I bloodied my knuckles dozens of times changing oil, replacing brake shoes and pads, spark plugs and distributors. Once, I even wrestled out the rear seats so I could replace the rear struts.

More times than I can count, that Camry shuttled me halfway across the country between my parent’s home and college. I drove the car to my wedding and my honeymoon. I drove my wife in the Camry to the hospital for the births of both of our children. I know many of you think that Camrys are soulless appliances that are impossible to love. But people do; these steadfast vanilla vehicles participate in their life experiences. As the ad says, at some point, they become more than a car.

I can think of no public policy or social engineering program designed to improve highway safety by encouraging an emotional connection between man/woman and their machine. (Hmm… Perhaps we should establish a North American Man-Vehicle Love Association? No, no. Bad idea.) However, I do know that as I changed the motor oil in my Honda Accord last night-– she is getting full synthetic these days-– my fondness for the car has grown. Driving safety improves because every act of caretaking for the car makes me that much more invested in its welfare, as well as my own.

Let’s try an experiment. I’ll give you a shiny new multi-blade, swivel head safety razor and an old-fashioned straight razor honed to a fine edge. You shave one side of your face (or one leg, depending on your shaving proclivities) with one razor and the other side with the other one. With which razor will you finish more quickly, and which one will you use very carefully and deliberately? According to a study from a Purdue University research team, the same thing applies to our driving habits: the safer we perceive our cars to be, the less carefully we tend to drive them.

There’s no arguing that today’s vehicles are much safer than those built 20 years ago. Seatbelts, ABS, airbags, ESC, traction control and crumple zones all combine to improve your chances of surviving a major accident and reduce your likelihood and severity of injury in any accident. However, Fred Mannering, a Purdue professor of civil engineering, says the same systems designed to protect us from each other may encourage more aggressive driving. They actually increase our chances of being in an accident and, thus, our chances of injury. 

This phenomenon, which Mannering refers to as the “offset hypothesis,” results when drivers respond to safety improvements by becoming more careless because they expect the technology to protect them regardless of how they drive.

Mannering and his team analyzed accident data from Washington over a five year period, tracking the same drivers as they moved from cars without airbags and ABS into cars with the safety equipment. He and his team built computer models using accident data and driving records for these drivers. They then calculated the probability of being involved in an accident for drivers of different ages and demographics. Mannering reports, "Our findings suggest that the offset hypothesis is occurring and that it is sufficient to counter the modest technological benefits of airbags and antilock brakes."

National Traffic Safety Administration data seem to support his findings. In their last annual report, they show fatalities per 100 million vehicle miles traveled increased 1.4% and the number of fatal crashes increased by 1.9%– in spite of an increased number of airbag and ABS-equipped vehicles on the road. As further validation of his offset hypothesis, more than half of passenger vehicle occupants killed were not wearing seatbelts or other restraint devices.

Psychologist Dr. Gerald Wilde takes this concept a bit further in his analysis of risky behavior. In his books "Target Risk" and "Target Risk 2," he states that “people alter their behavior in response to the implementation of health and safety measures, but the riskiness of the way they behave will not change, unless those measures are capable of motivating people to alter the amount of risk they are willing to incur.”

Based on this theory of risk homeostasis, Dr. Wilde postulates that safety measures such as airbags don't produce the changes in driving behavior needed to reduce accident rates because they fail to reduce people's willingness to take risk. In fact, the opposite appears to be true– they actually increase willingness to take risk because drivers perceive that the increase in safety margin allows them to behave in a more risky manner.

Of course, the automakers and safety experts– all of whom have a vested interest in convincing the public of the benefits of various safety devices– don’t agree with Mannering’s findings or Wilde’s hypothesis. No wonder: all their research and data is based on measurements of the number of drivers killed or seriously injured– not whether or not the devices have an impact on accident or injury rates. Volvo openly admits that while they’ve done plenty research on injuries and death rates, they’ve never looked into whether aggressive driving increases with the perceived safety level of a vehicle.

Dr. Wilde states the best way to change risky behavior is to reward those who engage in less risky behavior, instead of punishing those who take more risks (i.e. speeding tickets). He cites studies that show industrial accident rates decrease when employers give bonuses or special recognition to those who exhibit safe behavior.  Insurance companies do this to some extent by offering lower rates to drivers who have fewer accidents and moving violations.

But why not carry it even further? The government could give tax incentives to those who remain accident free over the year. Drivers not incurring any moving violations over a certain time could be allowed to use the carpool lanes. I’m sure there are other rewards which would encourage less risk-taking on the highway and lower accident rates– if the government was serious about lowering accident rates. In the meantime, though, the best we can do is watch out for the hoons who think they’re impervious to the laws of physics. Airbags may save their lives, but they won’t keep them from running that red light.

I like to drive fast. I don't think I'm breaking new rhetorical ground to suggest that anyone who likes to drive fast violates the speed limit from time to time. In fact, depending on your predilection for automotive velocity, "from time to time" easily becomes "all the time." There are plenty of ways to justify chronic speeding: posted speed limits are unrealistic (set low to reflect average vehicles' and drivers' capabilities), they're a guideline rather than an absolute indication of safe speed (which don't reflect variable conditions such as weather, road surface, traffic, etc.), they're relatively unimportant (compared to inattentive, reckless or drunk driving) and the vast majority of motorists exceed them anyway. Strangely, the last excuse is the most potent.

It's a bizarre concept for a democratic government: enact and enforce a law which the majority of people don't obey. It gets even stranger when you consider the fact that the majority of citizens support the law that they know they don't obey (hence its creation and continuation). Of course, the speed limit is not the first or best example of this hypocritical happenstance. From 1920 to 1933, America lived under the strictures of the Eighteenth Amendment to the US Constitution. Despite popular support for the "prohibition" against the sale and distribution of alcohol, Americans kept on drinking. In the same sense, American motorists kept driving above 55mph when Richard Nixon's administration used federal highway funds to force the states to adopt a “national” speed limit.

In both cases, arguments for the legislation were logical and coherent. There's no question that alcohol was/is America's most destructive drug, blighting the lives of millions, disrupting our economic efficiency and causing thousands of fatalities. There's also no question that driving 55mph was/is an excellent way to save billions of gallons of imported oil. (I might even spot you the national speed limit's positive effect on highway fatalities– if it were actually true.) But no matter how you slice it, neither law significantly curtailed the proscribed behavior. This made enforcement a horrendously expensive, Sisyphusian task.

One of the key differences between Prohibition and unobserved speed limits is that the latter is self-financing. One wonders if Prohibition might have lasted longer if the government agencies in charge of its enforcement had received the financial fruits of current RICO statutes, which provide for confiscation of criminal assets. In contrast, police who write speeding tickets can use the money to pay for police who write speeding tickets. This being America, it’s not quite that straight forward. Speeding tickets fall under local and state jurisdiction; the revenues generated are often subject to “land grabs” by money hungry local legislators.

In England, it is that simple. The national government has “ring fenced” the money generated by speeding tickets: mandating that local “safety camera partnerships” must spend the revenue from speed enforcement on speed enforcement. This supposedly virtuous circle has led to an explosion of speed cameras, a huge increase in speeding tickets and a very nasty unintended consequence. Just as Prohibition eroded the American public’s respect for law and law enforcement, the United Kingdom’s extremely effective anti-speeding jihad has undermined the public’s respect for the police.

At the risk of alienating road safety-minded readers, many of whom have suffered personal losses from traffic fatalities, the issue of the public’s faith in its police force is far more important than speed-related road safety. When a law criminalizes a behavior practiced by the majority of its citizens, it criminalizes its citizens. When the police rigorously enforce this law, hypocritically enough, the public comes to resent the police. Keep in mind that most people never encounter their police force; speeding tickets written “when I wasn’t really doing anything wrong” do nothing to engender a relationship of mutual respect.

Unlike Prohibition, there is no obvious answer to this state of affairs; you can’t simply “repeal” (i.e. abandon) speed limits. Or can you? If you ask the average Joe if they think police should write speeding tickets only in those situations where a motorist was driving “faster than was safe for the prevailing conditions” you’d have little to no disagreement. That kind of policy would require judicious human enforcement by officers prioritizing road safety, rather than revenue collection. It would be far more expensive that a passive device snapping off tickets to anyone and everyone violating an inflexible, predetermined speed limit.

In the US, the aggressiveness of speed enforcement varies widely. Certain states are now experimenting with speed cameras, blundering straight into the old axiom that those who do not learn from history are condemned to repeat it. Meanwhile, the situation in the UK seems to be reaching some sort of breaking point, with anti-speed camera campaigners gaining public sympathy and support. The country is learning that public policy based on moral posturing, rather than common sense and real world behavior, is doomed to failure.

[podcast is with Paul Smith, founder of the UK's Safe Speed ] 

A friend was riding in the passenger seat of a new Buick Lucerne last month. The driver turned left across an intersection—and was met head-on by a pick-up trying to beat the light. All the big Buick’s safety features worked like a charm. No one in the car was seriously injured. In an initial effort to minimize the accident’s significance, the driver bragged that he’d been through much worse. Personally, I don’t think that’s anything to be proud of. Grateful might be a better reaction.

Whether we personally witness– or experience– the savagery of automobile accidents, we all know it’s a meat grinder out there. Yet we continue to drive, purposefully blind to the possibility that our life could be cut short at any moment. It’s easy to ignore the less immediately apparent ways the automobile might be eroding our life span: pollution, obesity or the aesthetic assault on our landscape. But how can it be so easy to disregard the quick and brutal way in which a pleasant afternoon drive can become a violent death? And why would anyone decide that their cell phone, make-up, or Big Mac is more important than their safe return home?

I suppose it’s human nature. Our talent for distancing ourselves from catastrophe, both mentally and emotionally, allows us to get on with life. Under the bright light of rationality, we understand that death is a certainty. But not now, we tell ourselves. Not here, not yet. We banish any thoughts of potential disaster and get on with the task at hand. And why not? Today’s safety-glassed, plasticized, brake-assisted, stability controlled, belted, bagged and crumple-zoned cars are safer than Ralph Nader could ever have dreamed. We can avoid or survive accidents that would have killed us a decade ago. We’re safer, and we feel it. And yet…

There may be a few degrees of separation between us and a road-related fatality, but there’s no separation between us and other accidents. We’ve all survived fender benders; many of us have walked away from serious shunts. Unfortunately, the experience leaves us shaken, but not stirred. Maybe we feel differently about people who die in auto accidents than we do about those who fall victim to crime because drivers make a free will decision to get behind the wheel. But none of us really expect to pay the ultimate price, do we? Like juvenile delinquents, we presume the other guy will foot the bill. And so they do– until they don’t.

I realize that humanity is one big social marketplace. If the automobile exacted a socially unacceptable human toll, we’d all stop driving. Instead, each of us calculates the odds against our own death, determines them to be acceptable, and ventures out onto the streets. There is no choice. Our society is built upon the car; we’re completely dependent on it. But that fact offers no absolution. We must face the reality that death stalks our highways, and take the appropriate preventative measures.

So, does this add up to just another trite and trifling reminder to ‘drive safely’? Maybe it does. But each driver needs to realize that we are playing God with the lives our passengers, our fellow drivers and ourselves each time we head out of the garage. Around 42k people are going to die on the roadways of the US this year. Maybe that’s an acceptable price for our society to pay in exchange for the personal mobility and clear economic advantages of automotive travel. But maybe the cost doesn’t have to be that high. We drivers treat the issue of fuel expense with deadly seriousness. It’s time to treat the expense in human life just as seriously.

Driver’s Ed instructors used to show aspiring motorists grisly images of horrific car wrecks, to make them appreciate the stakes involved. I’m not sure when the scare tactics stopped. I took drivers’ training in 1989. By then the practice was over. It was probably deemed ineffective or politically incorrect. Regardless, we weren’t forced to view the carnage. Of course, what you don’t see can hurt you. Shortly after I graduated from high school, a classmate was killed in an accident not far from my house. That afternoon changed my outlook on life — for a while. Like millions of other motorists, I eventually got over it. After all, it didn’t happen to me.

What would it really take to get drivers to change their potentially lethal habits? If teenagers can laugh off graphic films of accidental decapitations, if commuters can speed by roadside flowers without a second glance, how can we communicate the need to drive with vigilance, caution and respect? It seems that no matter what we do, Darwin and the Grim Reaper stay focused on their ghastly assignment. 

Why do manufacturers of high end cars think I’m an idiot? Their automobiles tell me when their tires need air, when the coolant is low and when it’s time for an oil change. They [still] remind me to buckle-up, close my door and take my key. They warn me of approaching objects (front and rear). Yes, I know: this dumbing-down suits the majority of wealthy car buyers, who’d rather read a treatise on Keynesian economics than check their oil. Still, you’ve got to draw the line somewhere. Sun visor stickers are my personal line in the sand.

I just spent $270 replacing my Mercedes’ sun shields with virgin visors– just to rid myself of those bothersome airbag warning labels. I used to peel them off myself, but the stickers have become tackier and tackier (in every sense); my patient peeling and wiping is no longer effective. In my Audi and BMW, I’m not as lucky: the warning labels are embossed into the visor, both OEM and aftermarket.  

For all I know, it’s illegal to remove airbag warning stickers. I’m not concerned. For years, I have been removing stickers from my pillow which read, “Warning, these stickers are not to be removed under penalty of law!” I’ve never been arrested for this desecration of my own personal property. As far as I know, there is no warrant out for my arrest. The day the cops check for missing airbag stickers is the day I buy a big bore shotgun and join Oregon’s survivalists.

The airbag stickers warn you that short people and small children can be injured by airbags. No, really? More importantly, what’s it got to do with me? First, I’m not short and I am childless. Second, I don’t let kids ride in the front seat of my cars. (If I had kids, I’d consider it my responsibility to discover the safest way to carry them.) Third, short people have free will; they can weigh-up the dangers of front seat airbags and decide whether or not to drive a car, sit in the passenger seat or sacrifice their pride and jump in the back.

Why can’t I just sign a release when I purchase my vehicle stating that I understand that airbags are dangerous? After I purchase a vehicle in California, I have to sign statements saying I understand that there is no cooling off period and that the dealer can check my credit and invade my privacy and charge me $2.00 to inspect my tires. I never saw a sticker that warned me about this.

I want to know which lawsuit made these stickers a requirement in every vehicle sold in the U.S. Who determined that airbags were the foremost danger facing automobile drivers (literally)? Can a brightly-colored written warning label immutably attached to the most obvious (and therefore most annoying) location in our cars solve the problem? Are the people that need these labels even reading them? Can they even read?

Manufacturers should be concerned about more perilous threats to our safety. What about yakking on the cell or wiping snot off the kid in the [airbagless] backseat? How about drinking and driving? Fastening my seat belt? Speeding, not checking my mirrors or aggressive lane changing? Eating? Smoking (imagine how long that one would be)? Don’t these behaviors cause more accidental deaths than “killer airbags”? Perhaps there should be a warning label telling me to never attempt to drive in the city of Boston. No, instead I’m warned about a passive safety device that I’ll probably (hopefully?) never use.

Other than killing all the lawyers, there is an answer to this litigious lunacy: a test to determine whether or not you need to be protected from your own stupidity. (Once upon a time, a high school diploma or a driving test would’ve done the trick.) If you prove you possess a modicum of intelligence and simple common sense, you could carry a card that exempted you from these Nanny State warnings.

Your car’s owner’s manual would be half the size. You could just know that objects in the side mirror aren’t as close as they appear. And there'd be other benefits. When you bought a coffee from McDonalds, you could drink a cup of hot coffee that didn’t warn you not to burn yourself. You could fall asleep on the airplane in front of the flight attendants while they demonstrate to the knuckle-draggers how to buckle a seatbelt. Instead of a warning on cigarette packs, it would simply say, ‘enjoy.’

And the next time I visit a dealer, I could present my card and they would say, “Ah, Mr. Shoemaker, you want to look at these cars over here.” And there would sit my dream car: an automobile without idiot lights or warning labels.

Driving talent is as rare as the ability to play a sitar. Driver training is a joke. Driver testing is the punch line. In fact, there’s only one thing keeping the highway fatality rate from ascending epidemically: the car. Electronic braking aids, traction control, stability control, handling improvements, crumple zones, airbags, seatbelt systems, stadium-bright lighting, pavement shredding brakes, tires so good they make ‘70’s rubber look like wagon wheels— these are our saviors. And it’s time to take the next step: automation.

Cars should take all meaningful driving tasks away from the driver: braking, accelerating, steering, cornering, judging distances, interpreting (or even simply noticing) traffic signals and signs. I’m talking about a fully automated automobile; one where Nav screens and multi-media controller thingies no longer say, “Don’t be distracted by me while you’re driving.” A car where the computerized brain monitors your attention and begs you to be distracted, to play with the screen rather than messing with the car’s important controls.

There’s precedent. The now-ancient joke among airline pilots is that glass-cockpit crews still number three: pilot, copilot and a German shepherd trained to bite either of them if they touch any of the controls. Airliners are already totally automated, from takeoff to landing, and the skies have never been safer. If highly-trained professional pilots subvert their skills to safety technology for the greater good, shouldn’t we remove control of our two ton transports from Joe Sixpack?

When I say “automatic cars” I don’t mean the goofy things we used to see in Popular Science in the ‘80s: a freight train of Pontiac Bonnevilles doing 60 mph down The Highway of the Future, their bumpers six inches apart as they followed a buried signal cable like six beagles sniffing a collie’s cooter. Buried cables cost a gazillion dollars and require ripping trenches down the middle of every highway lane in the country. As Bill Gates discovered fifteen minutes after installing miles of fiber optic in his mega-mansion on Lake Washington, wireless rules.

And so it is with automated cars. Thanks to burgeoning wireless technology, everything to make the automated car work is already on shelves or in stationary orbit. We have all the tools we need to make a “driverless car”: motion and distance sensors, transponders, GPS receivers and telematics (the real-time, two-way systems used by On-Star, Lo-Jack, EZ-Pass, etc.); electronic steering, throttle and brakes. Create some complex algorithms and software to combine everything into an intelligent and (relatively) failsafe control system and you’re done. Literally.

If you doubt the automated car is coming, don’t. Mercedes’ intelligent cruise control– an automatic system that maintains a safe distance between cars– is a sign of things to come. From there, it’s a short step to building cars that talk to each other, facilitating the same sort of automated collision avoidance systems used by jetliners. And so it goes. Tires will calculate their coefficient of friction and adjust the throttle accordingly. Satnav will keep your car within its lane. And then it's stop signs and traffic lights that order your car to stop. Eventually you’ll have no more to say about your speed than you do aboard Amtrak.

Enthusiasts will argue that forcing drivers into automated cars is using a sledgehammer to crack a walnut. “Better driver education” is needed. “More testing. Stricter standards. Relicensing every two years. Traffic tickets for bad driving technique, not for skillful speeding.” Oh, absolutely. I also think driver’s licenses should be restricted to college graduates. That anybody weighing over 300 pounds should be made to live in North Dakota. And every U.S. citizen should be required to pass an annual spelling and grammar test in order to be granted an Internet-access license. That isn’t going to happen either.

Before posting dozens of specious reasons why the fully automated car can’t or won’t work— people won’t stand for it, lawyers won’t allow it, you can’t cover every country road, etc.– once again, consider the underlying rationale. We— you, me, every multi-tasker scarfing a breakfast burrito, every bozo in a pickup truck convinced he’s Dale Junior, every amateur street racer driving a ZO6 with all the talent of an XBox twiddler— are the problem. For that reason alone, the fully automated car will happen. As for cultural considerations…

Two thousand years, your horse was just as much a mark of wealth, virility and personal skill as a 911 Turbo or WRX is today. Millions of Saracens, Conquistadors, cavalrymen and cowboys would have told you that you were full of manure to suggest that one day, nobody but jockeys and hobbyists would ride a horse. I think it was Ferdinand Porsche who said that the last horse on earth will be a racehorse, and that the last car will be a racecar. So take heart, enthusiasts.

How easy is your car to use?  I'm not talking about acceleration, steering or cornering. I'm talking about the mental effort required to successfully interact with your car’s secondary features, such as in-car entertainment or the trip computer. While controls like steering (the brilliant simplicity of a wheel), throttle (foot pedal farthest to the right) and braking (second-to-right pedal) are standardized for most vehicles certified for use on a public road, the majority of other controls are confusing enough to plunge an automotive reviewer (or a Hertz Platinum Club member) into RTFM rage.

Sometimes it’s a simple matter of old habits dying hard: in many ways the best interface is one you don't have to re-learn. If you're used to having to jab at a button several times to adjust the temperature several degrees while surveying the change on a display that’s located on the opposite hemisphere of the dash, that may be the best user interface—for you.

But that’s not the whole story when something as basic as starting the car has now taken on innumerous forms. Do you A) insert the key in a slot (to the right or left of the steering wheel or in the center console) and turn it or B) insert the key in a hole and push it or C) insert the key into a slot and push a start button or D) ignore the key altogether as long as it's on your person and then either push a button or twist a piece of plastic adjacent to the steering wheel? Each of these methods are used by at least one current production car—and I’m sure I’ve missed at least one type of ignition sequence.

Changing gears is a similar issue. If you want to upshift using an automatic transmission with a shift-it-yourself mode, do you tap the shifter forward, backward or to the right? Or do you use buttons on the steering wheel? If you use steering wheel buttons, do you push the button on the right to upshift or on the back to downshift and the front to upshift?  Or does the car instead use paddles behind the steering wheel? Which paddle do you use? Do you push or pull?  And in case you want to shift while turning, do the paddles rotate with the steering wheel or are they stationary?

Even something as simple as automatic door locks come complete with their own set of usability issues.  Do they lock when you put the car in Drive or when you reach a preset speed? Do they automatically unlock when you put the car back in Park?  Do they automatically unlock when you pull the interior door handle, and if so, in the back seat or just the front?  How do you disable them? Can you disable them?  Can you even answer these questions about your own car?

Clearly, usability and interface design principles are taking a backseat to aesthetics and automakers’ oddly conflicting compulsions to be both trendy and unique.  The problem is compounded by the unprecedented numbers of features being added to new cars, such as satellite radio and navigation, iPod integration, DVD players, Bluetooth cell phone connections, four-zone climate control, OnStar, heated and cooled massaging memory seats, etc. Without well-thought-out ways of interacting with these new features, the result is anarchy.  I’d like to know how many times BMW Assist has been summoned by X5 drivers who thought they were opening their sunroofs, since the corresponding buttons are poorly marked, nearly identical, and adjacent to each other in matching wells, for no apparent reason other than BMW’s ever-questionable ideas regarding aesthetics.

Annoyances aside, this is a serious matter. Among products that most of us deal with on a day-to-day basis, cars inhabit a special subcategory: products that regularly cause death.  Anything that requires us to dawdle too long with an in-car interface literally puts lives in danger, yet cars are still often poorly thought out or designed with form over function. No matter your opinion on how easy BMW’s iDrive controller is to learn, there’s no getting around the fact that you have to take your eyes off the road for significant periods of time to navigate through its seemingly endless hierarchy of menus.

While manufacturers may be aware of the problem, they’re not very good at solving it. They often seem to simply compete in shoehorning more features into fewer buttons, birthing such disastrous ideas as the aforementioned 11-way haptic feedback control knob (a.k.a. iDrive) and nearly equally—though differently—awful in-car voice recognition. For enthusiasts, these issues are particularly pressing. Any device which gets between them and driving is, rightly, reviled.  Any device that adds to their enjoyment without frustrating them is celebrated. For hi-tech-loving manufacturers, designing a car that’s easy-to-use that pleases the cognoscenti isn’t proving easy. 

The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) has a mission: “Save lives, prevent injuries, reduce vehicle-related crashes.” NHTSA also commits itself to “providing the most accurate and complete information available to its customers, the American traveling public.” While NHTSA’s progress towards its stated goals is (and always will be) a matter of debate, the agency has failed us. They’ve failed to tell the truth about ABS.

Modern ABS consists of a computer (CPU), four speed sensors (one on each wheel) and hydraulic valves (attached to the brake circuit). When the CPU senses that one or more of the wheels are turning significantly more slowly than the others, it decreases the pressure on the braking circuit. If the wheel or wheels then turn too fast (freed from braking), the force is reapplied, creating a pulsing sensation through the brake pedal.

When Bosch’s Antiblockiersystem appeared on the US automotive scene in the late ‘70’s, safety advocates hailed electronically assisted braking as a life-saving technology that would reduce the number and severity of accidents. Tests under controlled conditions seemed to support the contention. NHTSA and the insurance industry quickly embraced and promoted the technology.

Thanks (in part) to insurance industry discounts, almost every passenger vehicle now sold in America is fitted with ABS. NHTSA’s web site proclaims “…an antilock brake system (ABS) is a safe and effective braking system. ABS allows the driver to maintain directional stability, control over steering, and in some situations, to reduce stopping distances during emergency braking situation, particularly on wet and slippery road surfaces.” The real-world evidence doesn’t support their claims. 

Researchers have compared accident and fatality rates for vehicles with and without ABS. Other studies have examined the driving records of ABS and non-ABS equipped taxi drivers in Munich and Oslo. The accident and fatality data shows that ABS exacerbates the severity of accidents in certain situations. The taxi study proved that drivers tend to take greater risks in cars equipped with ABS (although the difference in collision rates was not significant).  In short, ABS may do more harm than good.

More specifically, the studies show that ABS has no real-world effect on dry-surface braking, ABS-equipped vehicles take longer to stop on ice than non-ABS vehicles, ABS-equipped vehicles are more prone to roll-over accidents than non-ABS vehicles, ABS-equipped vehicles are involved more often in single car fatal accidents than non-ABS vehicles, and drivers of ABS-equipped vehicles tend to drive faster and apply their brakes later than non-ABS drivers.

The AAA Foundation for Traffic safety has determined that improper driver steering in an ABS-equipped vehicle can send it veering out of control. In their tests, jerking the wheel (as if trying to steer around an obstacle) in a 35 mph panic stop sent ABS-equipped cars careening across two lane widths. (Without the ABS, the car skidded in a straight line.) This behavior may account for the higher roll-over rates for ABS-equipped vehicles. Other research revealed that many drivers don’t use ABS properly; they pump the pedal as they would regular brakes.

NHTSA, the insurance industry, manufacturers and engineers are all well aware of ABS’ shortcomings. In 1994, Dr. Charles J. Kahane published a paper for NHTSA entitled “Preliminary Evaluation of the Effectiveness of Antilock Brake Systems for Passenger Cars." Kahane reported that “All types of run-off-road crashes – rollovers, side impacts with fixed objects and frontal impacts with fixed objects – increased significantly with ABS. Nonfatal run-off-road crashes increased by an estimated 19 percent, and fatal crashes by 28 percent.” Kahane also concluded that “Rollovers and side impacts with fixed objects… had the highest increases with ABS. Nonfatal crashes increased by 28 percent, and fatal crashes by 40 percent.”

In 1996, the Insurance Institute for Highway Safety published a news release titled “Antilock Brakes Don’t Reduce Fatal Crashes; People in Cars With Antilocks at Greater Risks- But Unclear Why.”  In 1998, Leonard Evans of General Motors’ Global R&D Operations checked NHTSA’s ABS crash data and concluded “it is unlikely that on dry roads ABS can materially reduce risk” and, more shockingly, “ABS is associated with a 44% increase in rollover risk.” In 1999, the Society of Automotive Engineers reported that “ABS was found to be associated with a 51 percent increase in fatal rollover crashes on dry roads. For fatal side impact crashes, ABS produced a 69 percent increase for unfavorable road conditions, and a 61 percent increase for favorable road conditions.”

The average cost of an ABS system is $240. Multiply that figure by millions of vehicles, add the number of lives lost and the injuries suffered because of ABS' ill effects, and the true cost of this potentially lethal braking systems is evident. At the very least, NHSTA should launch an immediate investigation into the advisability of fitting SUV’s with ABS. Meanwhile, you’ve been warned: ABS can kill. 

Cruising into Newport in Maserati's Quattroporte (review to follow), I watched a Mitsubishi Starion drive straight through a stop sign and slam into the side of a BMW 3-Series sedan.  Despite my reputation for unbridled, acid-tongued cynicism, my first thought was the same as yours: is everybody all right?  After ascertaining that the meat wagon wasn't a life or death issue (at least as far as I could tell), and that plenty of gawkers had stopped to gawk, my second thought was less charitable: if I pull over as a witness, how long would it cut into my 24-hour test drive?  And then I saw the Starion driver get out of his relatively unmolested POS and check his front fender for damage and I felt an enormous urge to stop, jump out and clock the guy.  So my question is this: how do we get these stupid bastards off our roads? Better (i.e. not speed-obsessed) enforcement?  Higher driving standards?  How about any driving standards?  I'm not saying anything about the Starion driver's ethnicity, but why are some states giving driving licenses to illegal immigrants who can't speak English?  What the Hell kind of driving test doesn't require enough English literacy to read a warning sign?  Your thoughts?

I write driving articles for an international travel magazine.  Despite my editorial obligation to report on landscapes, history, culture and food; much of what I see passes in a blur.  I’ve driven obscenely fast through Europe, South Africa, Australia, Japan, Norway, Brazil and everywhere else they send me.  The only place I ever worry about speeding tickets is the United States.  Oh sure, I’ve had run-ins with local law enforcement all over the world. But I deserved to be pulled over, and the experience was more like a cultural exchange than a legal colonoscopy.

When I received a speeding ticket in Poland, I paid the $12 fine on the spot.  The trooper handed me a lanyard of what looked like Green Stamps.  “Souvenir!” I said, holding them aloft.  “Yah, soo-veneer,” the Polish cop laughed.  In New Zealand, the constable and my wife traded bungee-jumping stories while I fumbled for the registration.  “You can just go back to New York and forget about this,” he said, handing me a $130 speeding ticket.  I have no way to prove it, but the dignity of these encounters leads me to believe that highway cops in many foreign countries have a profound respect for a respectable-looking driver thrashing the beJesus out of a well-maintained high performance automobile.

The logic is both completely unexpressed and perfectly reasonable:  “He’s driving a Porsche/BMW/Ferrari/AMG/whatever.  I can assume he’s reasonably competent.  He can drive as fast as he likes, within reason.”  Of course, on a derestricted German autobahn, reason is irrelevant.  But if you’re driving fast and competently in Italy, Spain, Hungary, Portugal, Turkey, the former Czechoslovakia, etc., it’s hard to get a cop to look askance.  Of course, the people who live in these countries will tell you their highway patrollers are ogres, but they have no idea what serious highway-code enforcement is all about.

Money.  It’s all about money.  The way New York deals with speeding violations makes it obvious that punishment or behavior modification is not the point of US speeding tickets.  My most recent offense occurred in a sleepy hamlet called, I swear, Liberty.  I was ambling along at 80 mph in a 55 on a dry, deserted, wide-median, rural, four-lane highway.  After signing-off with Officer Humorless, I immediately filled-out the ticket and mailed it back to the authorities– with a not-guilty plea.  In return, I received an invitation to repeat my offense during a three-hour round-trip to the town traffic court.

After serving 10 minutes hard time on a bench in the Town Hall’s basement, the trooper who ticketed me called my name.  “Jeez, 80 in a 55— that’s a lot of points on your license,” my new best friend said.  “How about we make it ‘failure to obey a traffic device’ [i.e. going through a stop sign]?  Judge’ll charge you $100 and court costs, and it doesn’t go on your license.” Why on earth would a trooper offer this path to insurance premium paradise, and then offer it again to another two dozen feisty New Yorkers?

With half a dozen cops all drawing overtime, 50 or 60 citizens waiting to be charged, and a town justice and court clerk who have better things to do on a summer morning than process tedious paperwork, New York State has realized that all it takes is one guy who has read How to Beat a Speeding Ticket to lawyer-up and demand radar-gun certification records, and everybody will have to come back another day. So they gavel down $100 plus $40 in costs 50 or 60 times in as many minutes and everybody goes home happy.  “We don’t take credit cards,” the clerk smiled. “But there’s an ATM right down the street.”  

I have a gym buddy who’s the police chief in a nearby town.  “Get over it,” he laughs.  “You write magazine articles, we write tickets.  That’s what cops do.”  Ridding the roads of cell phone gabbers, left-lane bandits, tailgaters and seatbelt refusniks is irrelevant.  Just shoot anyone and everyone with a radar gun and collect the cash.  The Car Connection’s Speeding Excuses Contest would have you believe you can talk your way out of a fine.  In the Home of the Brave, you’re more likely to sell solar panels to Mahmoud Ahmadinejad than “fool” a speed cop.

Last summer, a moron in a Ford Excursion was screaming at the kids in the back when he rear-ended my wife’s Boxster.  Did he get a ticket for leaving Susan with eight broken ribs, a moderate concussion and a totaled Porsche?  Nope.  “We can’t ticket something we didn’t see,” another cop friend explained, “unless we get depositions from witnesses.”  There were plenty of witnesses, but I guess it’s easier– and more profitable– to stick a radar gun out the window than to push the paper that punishes a dangerous driver.