
By: Jim Taylor
The most
lethal weapon most Canadians own
Gershwin was wrong. In summertime, the living ain’t easy. Not on the roads, anyway.
Summertime means that drivers
who normally never drive further than Wal-Mart set out on the highway to see
the world.
People who usually drive
sub-compact cars get behind the wheel of a recreation vehicle that is only
fractionally smaller and more manoeuvrable than the
space shuttle.
Prairie drivers creep around
mountain roads.
Young men in late model muscle
cars pass on corners; old men in SUVs change lanes without signalling;
some women need more arms than a Hindu goddess to juggle cellphone,
lipstick, tour guide, Pekinese lapdog, Tim Horton’s iced cappucino,
and steering wheel.
Summer driving brings out
inadequacies that remain hidden the rest of the year.
Now, everyone knows I don’t
like guns. I support gun registry—though not the bureaucratic boondoggle
devised by our last federal government—and I would ban handguns for all who lack a good reason for carrying one.
But in fact, the most lethal
weapon the average Canadian will ever wield is not a gun, but a car.
Taken for granted
everywhere
Almost everyone today has a car. Even those who don’t
own a car—and I actually know a few people who have made that choice—still have
a driver’s licence so that they can rent a car if
they wish to.
A driver’s licence
has become an almost universal form of personal identification. The
This is not about kids
street-racing Honda Civics and Mazda 3s. It’s about average drivers who do
their best to stay out of trouble.
Because they
don’t know how to deal with trouble, when it happens.
Gun owners at least practice
their gun-totin’ skills. They take their weapons
apart, clean them, service them, ensure they’re safe.
Car owners—well, I suspect that a huge majority only service their vehicles
when something breaks.
I’m appalled at how many cars I
see wobbling down the highway with one tire almost flat.
Or hurtling
through the night with poorly aimed headlights that illuminate either the sky
or the car’s front bumper.
Theoretically, your local
garage will check your brakes, suspension, and other safety components every
six months or 8,000 km, whichever comes first, when you go in for your regular
oil and filter change. But many don’t.
And even if they do, a lot can
happen in 8,000 kilometres—equivalent to a return
trip across the country. Some car owners even try to extend even that service
interval to save a few dollars.
Inadequate training
When I started driving, you could get your driver’s licence the day you turned 16. Once you had a licence, there were no restrictions on where you could
drive, when you could drive, or how many people you could jam into the car.
In hindsight, the only thing
that saved many of us from self-extinction was that we drove gutless cars on
deserted roads.
B.C.’s current graduated licencing system is an improvement. Accident rates for new
drivers have dropped almost 20 per cent.
A learner’s licence
now requires a full year during which a beginner can only drive when
accompanied by an adult. A novice licence, the next
step, continues to restrict an unskilled driver’s opportunities to get into
trouble.
Except, I
submit, that a driver needs to experience some of those troubles to know how to
get out of them later. I’d be surprised if even one per cent of Canadian
drivers have taken skid school training, for example.
Unpracticed skills
Indeed,
most drivers spend their entire lives trying to avoid skids of any kind.
But no one succeeds in avoiding
trouble forever.
In a skid—on ice, on gravel, on
rain-slicked pavement—you don’t have time to think about what your instruction
manual said. Any more than a golfer can take time to analyze each muscle
movement while swinging, or a basketball player can mentally calculate the
trajectory of a shot before taking it.
Your muscles have to respond,
instinctively, long before you have time to think about what to do.
How can they do that, if
they’ve never had any practice?
A pilot has to practice getting
a plane out of a spin. A golfer practices getting out of sand
traps. A car driver merely has to demonstrate that he can avoid having
an accident under normal conditions.
Neither
driver training or driver testing ever pushes the envelope to see how
that driver responds in an emergency.
Which is why
drivers who mow down a pedestrian, crush a cat, or swerve into the path of an
oncoming truck, are always bewildered. They have no idea what they might
have done wrong.
Inadequate testing
I
am not recommending that drivers should deliberately test their
limits—especially in today’s heavy traffic. That could be suicidal. Even homicidal.
I am arguing that our training
and testing processes need improvement.
Skid schools can teach some of
these skills. Police officers usually undergo skid school and high-speed
training. But both can be prohibitively expensive.
With today’s technology,
applicants for new or renewed licences could easily
take a virtual driving test, which would expose them to unexpected conditions
with no physical risk at all.
The child who runs out from
between parked cars.
The patch of
black ice on a corner.
The oncoming driver who
suddenly turns left without signalling.
Over the last fifty years, the
percentage of deaths in car accidents has fallen dramatically, thanks to seat
belts, air bags, and technological improvements. But the percentage of people
having accidents has barely changed at all.
In other words, our driving
skills have not improved. It’s time they did.
In an increasingly crowded
world, we can not afford incompetence in the handling of the most lethal weapon
most of us will ever have in our hands.
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Copyright © 2007 by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study
groups permitted; all other rights reserved.
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