Sacramento

  Today I'm sitting at Cypress Grille, a few feet from my new office looking at the walkway to K Street mall and Old Sacramento. I can see the irony through the dusty window. At age eighteen, I worked for Treasurer Ivy Baker Priest and her boss Governor Ronald Reagan at The State Capitol eight blocks from this spot. 

  I couldn't wait to get out of this town. I wanted to see the world, meet great thinkers, and fall in love. I was convinced that was not possible in Sacra-Tomato. If you ask a Sac citizen why they stay here the answer generally it is that Sacramento is close to everything and a good place to raise a family. But I didn't want to be close to everything. I wanted to be in the middle of everywhere and I wanted to raise Hell.

  My feet itched from birth--always looking for the road less traveled. The one person that could relate was my brother who made his exodus six months after me. For the next several decades, he and I would tromp across the globe--me in one hemisphere and he in the other. I don't think the world could have handled the two of us in the same coordinates. 

  God, all knowing all seeing, has a warped sense of humor. My dad told me the only way to go into the military was to become a nurse. I flat refused. I faint at the sight of needles and hospitals. So I became a military recruiter among other things. My brother suffered a different home life than I and swore he would never marry. He married late in life and became the most amazing husband, father and grandfather. I spent five years as nurse and caretaker of my husband. I watched him die. 

  I sit in my past trying to understand how and why--here? Maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe in some way we always return to the beginning step through the end. 

Proximity

Imagine you are in sunrise commute traffic in a city of over one million people like Los Angeles, San Francisco, or Sacramento. It’s grey, kind of foggy, and damp. Your silver car is in lane number three headed into town along with a quarter of the city’s population. You reach for your cup of coffee nestled in the cup holder then BAM! The silver van on your left slipped in front of you at the same time the bluish-grey compact on your right plowed into the shared lane. You have less than two seconds to hit the brakes and pray.

How many times have you seen this played out as near misses or actual collisions that include two, three, up to ten cars twisted in the worse commute day ever? I count on the experience daily and hope that I am aware enough to avoid any entanglement.

“I think every major city in America should only drive Google-cars—those computerized cars that drive themselves,” I said to my friend yesterday.

“I don’t. I don’t trust computers. They are always down.”

“Well, then, proximity sensors all the way around the cars. At least the people who are sober and awake could avoid collisions.”

“It would be too costly.”

“That was the same logic used against seat belts. Once they became mandatory…”

“We don’t need government in our lives telling businesses what to do. That’s why cars cost too much. Manufacturers were forced to put in seat belts and caused prices to go up.”

“But once they were in place, the prices dropped significantly, and lives were saved.”

A report from Freight 2013 stated that 40% of trucking accidents discussed were from types—rear ends, crossovers, and head-ons—that could have been avoided with sensors. According to http://www.drugabuse.gov/.  “…more than 16 percent of weekend, nighttime drivers tested positive for illegal, prescription, or over-the-counter drugs. More than 11 percent tested positive for illicit drugs.” One in five surveyed American drivers admitted to drinking and driving. How many of us eat, drink coffee, text, yell at the kid in the back seat, or day dream while driving?

A whole lot of us are driving impaired, in a rush, and not paying attention.  You in lane two and you in lane four are out to get us in lane three. If my car can’t avoid the accident on its own, then, by golly, shouldn’t it at least warn me of impending doom?

My great grandfather drove a Ford Model A—14.9 Horsepower, top speed of 63 MPH, with a driving range of 20 to 40 miles. Two and a half generations later, I could drive a Ford Taurus—240 Horsepower, top speed of 200 MPH, with a driving range of 300 to 360 miles. I don’t know about yours, but my brain has not developed enough to make life-saving decisions three times faster than my ancestor for six times as long of period. I’m not that smart.

The human race can use a hand or a chip, in this case, to make our morning drive safer. If I can’t have my Google-limo, I want my proximity sensors. Please.