I gotta say this.
Mar. 3rd, 2003 04:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bktheirregularI'm reading in the paper about how SUV's are inherently safer than smaller cars, because they do a better job of protecting their occupants in a crash.
And there's that one little point that if the proposed White House tax plan goes through, a small business may deduct the entire cost of an SUV from its taxes - which, if my math is correct, means that the taxpayers at large are paying for businesses to buy these cars.
I don't like this.
Of course, I'm biased.
On March 14, 1998, two days after I was accepted to law school, I was responding to an ambulance call in my personal vehicle, going directly to the scene as per orders from the dispatcher.
My personal vehicle at the time was a 1989 Dodge Daytona, the Shelby variant, with the glass T-tops, turbocharger, leather interior, digital dash, and all the trimmings. My dream car.
100 feet from where I was planning to park, I got T-boned on the left side by a Ford Expedition doing 45 in a 25 downhill in the rain. The truck's bumper smacked right into the driver's window.
The Expedition's driver later complained that his vehicle didn't drive right after the collision, and was annoyed that I had never called to ask how his family was doing, and got thorougly annoyed when the traffic ticket sworn out solely on his complaint was sealed against civil action - meaning it could not be used to bootstrap a lawsuit against me for damages.
By comparison:
My Shelby, the car I had lusted after since tenth grade, was turned to shrapnel.
The people who got to my car first told me afterwards that they were certain I had been killed in the impact. By a miracle, I had just unsnapped my seat belt - the impact threw me into the passenger seat, while if I had been belted in, the firefighters and medtechs on the scene agreed I would have suffered massive, probably fatal injuries.
The only reason the firefighters didn't have to cut my car apart to get me out was that the glass roof panels had imploded, giving them better access. They brought me out on a rigid spine board, uncertain as to whether I had suffered paralysis.
It was a week before the pain subsided enough for me to be able to walk again.
And on a smaller, sadder note, I was meeting with a very good friend for lunch that day - a plan which was, of necessity, canceled. As it turned out, we never managed to see each other again. The next time I was close by, I was carrying her coffin.
OK, so I'm bitter.
I still think that the more of those gas-hogging yuppie tanks are out there on the road, the more dangerous it is for the rest of us.
I'm biased. I admit that.
But I believe I've earned the right to my bias. I paid for it in blood.
Close entry.
And there's that one little point that if the proposed White House tax plan goes through, a small business may deduct the entire cost of an SUV from its taxes - which, if my math is correct, means that the taxpayers at large are paying for businesses to buy these cars.
I don't like this.
Of course, I'm biased.
On March 14, 1998, two days after I was accepted to law school, I was responding to an ambulance call in my personal vehicle, going directly to the scene as per orders from the dispatcher.
My personal vehicle at the time was a 1989 Dodge Daytona, the Shelby variant, with the glass T-tops, turbocharger, leather interior, digital dash, and all the trimmings. My dream car.
100 feet from where I was planning to park, I got T-boned on the left side by a Ford Expedition doing 45 in a 25 downhill in the rain. The truck's bumper smacked right into the driver's window.
The Expedition's driver later complained that his vehicle didn't drive right after the collision, and was annoyed that I had never called to ask how his family was doing, and got thorougly annoyed when the traffic ticket sworn out solely on his complaint was sealed against civil action - meaning it could not be used to bootstrap a lawsuit against me for damages.
By comparison:
My Shelby, the car I had lusted after since tenth grade, was turned to shrapnel.
The people who got to my car first told me afterwards that they were certain I had been killed in the impact. By a miracle, I had just unsnapped my seat belt - the impact threw me into the passenger seat, while if I had been belted in, the firefighters and medtechs on the scene agreed I would have suffered massive, probably fatal injuries.
The only reason the firefighters didn't have to cut my car apart to get me out was that the glass roof panels had imploded, giving them better access. They brought me out on a rigid spine board, uncertain as to whether I had suffered paralysis.
It was a week before the pain subsided enough for me to be able to walk again.
And on a smaller, sadder note, I was meeting with a very good friend for lunch that day - a plan which was, of necessity, canceled. As it turned out, we never managed to see each other again. The next time I was close by, I was carrying her coffin.
OK, so I'm bitter.
I still think that the more of those gas-hogging yuppie tanks are out there on the road, the more dangerous it is for the rest of us.
I'm biased. I admit that.
But I believe I've earned the right to my bias. I paid for it in blood.
Close entry.
SUV's need a lot more mockery.
Date: 2003-03-03 06:20 pm (UTC)