Commentary: If speed limits keep careless drivers safe, can I opt out?

Jay Binneweg | The New Mexican

3/12/2008 - 3/13/08

Over the past two weekends, I've looked up at the mountains and been drawn to the light dustings of snow that have shrouded the heights.

The first Sunday, I actually got in my raggedy old Subaru Outback and set off. We try in Drive to give you all the information we can on how to keep your car in top condition, safe and ready for whatever comes.

I don't really do that with my own car, I admit; what's the point of having my car in top condition when we spend so much of our time here just idling along under our silly speed limits? My mechanic is great and keeps everything in good working order, but my tires are everything we tell you they shouldn't be: old, bald, mismatched, unattended — I don't even check air pressure, as everyone should.



Anyway, back to the road to the ski valley: Not long after the ranger station, a rental Kia was toodling along, almost at what felt like a walking pace. Sure I'm impatient, but how boring must driving be if you never approach what your car is capable of — or even wonder?

I passed the Kia. Sorry, my bad. But it was never going to pull over.

A few corners later, my terrible tires hit the first shaded corner and gave up early — and we gently brushed the soft, plowed snowbank. I kept on. Every so often, I'd come upon other scars in the snow or a car whose driver was working to get it going back in the right direction.

The speed limit along pretty much the entire road to the ski valley is 25. This is mandated rain or shine, clear or fog, snow or raining frogs or the Rapture.



There's a difference between reckless and following the limit, I'd like to think. Some of the cars coming down the hill in the low-traction corners, mostly large SUVs, took them mindfully slowly. Then there'd be a break in the long trains of cars, and I'd see another Subaru blazing its own trail.

Call me naive, but I'd really like to think there is room in the world for a bit of personal responsibility: Don't get tangled up with others, don't pressure them, and then expect they'll pull over if they feel pressured. Everyone's happy, no?





It was snowing lightly, the ground covered with a dusting. And the only time my Outback dipped near the low limit was on the way down, when I caught a corner just right — no one around, snow-cushioned guard rails all around — and kicked the back end around, snapping to the left, where I caught it and kept us going in the intended direction.

There's a winter-driving school up in Colorado that I mean to get to one of these years, but what I've heard from people who've passed it is that practicing on snow and ice is key to everyday driving because the actions are the same — but the speeds are lower, giving you more room for error.



A guy in a black Saturn wagon came up on me partway down, confident enough to go faster than I was, so I pulled off to let him pass.

As is the way of these things, he was quickly snarled up in slower cars, but I have to hand it to him: Great driving. Though you have a taillight out.



The next Sunday, this last one, I took up two cars that just happened to be in my driveway at the same time: the new Subaru Impreza Outback and Pontiac Vibe AWD.

I took each in turn and tried to get a feel for how they would attack the same stretch of road. This time, there was no dusting, though snow started to drift down by the time I was taking the Pontiac down, the last run of the day. There was no one ahead of me, a blessing, so I cruised at a rate that was well within the car's limits (low as those might be).

Just before the ranger-station area, some oncoming angel flashed his brights.

A ranger person in a pickup was radaring along that stretch: He blipped his light rack; on a clear road, the wide, straight part, dry and unobstructed, he explained, going 51 in the 25 was jailable.

He was nice enough or busy enough to let me go with these parting words: "Wise up!"

All I could think was that he really meant the opposite: An arbitrary limit that doesn't reflect the specifics of a particular stretch of road smells to me of dumbing down.

In short, what I learned is that the speed limit on the ski-valley road is set to keep safe an overzealous driver in a poorly maintained vehicle with old, bald, mismatched tires in the first drifts of a wet snow. And that's the same speed we'll all have to adhere to come spring and summer? Absurd.

Contact Jay Binneweg at drive@sfnewmexican.com.