The nations that rank as the least corrupt-such countries as Finland, Norway, New Zealand, Sweden, and Singapore-are also the safest places in the world to drive. Sweden, of course, practically oozes safety, from its flagship Volvos to its "Vision Zero" policy, which seeks the eventual elimination of all traffic fatalities (it pa.s.sed this even after it already had the world's lowest traffic fatality rate). The British traffic psychologist Ian Walker tells the story about how a group of researchers equipped a car with cameras and got a group of Swedish military conscripts to drive around for a while. The purpose was to see how having pa.s.sengers would affect a recruit's driving. "They thought, Put four young guys in a car and give them free rein-they'll go nuts," Walker says. "Actually, the guys were saying, 'Careful, slow down.'"

In Finland, which has one of the lowest crash rates in the world, drivers are given fines based on a complicated calculus primarily involving their after-tax income. The law, intended to counter the regressive nature of speeding tickets (they take up a larger part of a poor person's income than a rich person's), has led to some very high-profile speeding tickets, such as Internet entrepreneur Jaakko Rytsola's $71,400 tab for going 43 miles per hour in a 25-mile-per-hour zone. There has been some grumbling, especially among the wealthy, but the law remains popular; in 2001, the legislature overwhelmingly rejected a cap on fines. Women seem to find the fine more fair than men (this is interesting for several reasons, which I will return to shortly). But what's remarkable about sliding-scale speeding tickets is not necessarily whether they get people to slow down. It's that in Finland legislators have the confidence to pa.s.s laws that unilaterally impose high costs on breaking the law, that traffic police will actually issue the fines rather than accept what in theory could be a huge bribe, and that the public, by and large, feels all this is fair.

It's true that Norway and Sweden are among the wealthiest countries in the world and, having taken care of the basic needs of their societies (e.g., getting everyone food and running water, establishing political stability), they can move on to things like safer roads. But as the case of Belgium shows, GDP itself is not necessarily a predictor for the safeness of the roads. France, traditionally one of the more dangerous countries in Europe to drive in, lowered the number of people killed on its roads from 7,721 in 2001 to just under 5,000 in 2005. It is not as if the French GDP soared during this period; in fact, it was rather stagnant.

What France did was buy Breathalyzers and automated speed cameras by the thousands and overhaul its points system for violations. It brought accountability to a system that had been plagued by chronic traffic ticket "fixing." (One study found that a third of the male employees at a national utility company had had tickets fixed and that those who had were also more likely to have been in a crash). Ticket fixing is so endemic in France that starting in 1958, incoming presidents declared amnesty on a range of traffic violations, from minor to fairly serious-a rather self-defeating measure that itself has been blamed for hundreds of traffic fatalities. The traffic-ticket holiday was curtailed by Jacques Chirac and seems to be on its way out altogether. France, in at least one way, is becoming less corrupt (indeed, it did drop a few places on the index during those same years).

The lesson is that wealth seems to affect traffic fatalities but corruption may affect them even more. It could just be that lifting GDP lowers corruption and and traffic fatalities. But a study by a group of U.S. economists concluded that the statistical relationship between corruption (as measured by the International Country Risk Guide) and traffic fatalities was actually stronger than the link between income and traffic fatalities. What they were saying, essentially, is that money is not enough. Even when countries become wealthy enough to start shifting attention to things like traffic safety, one still needs credible laws and credible people to enforce the laws. New Zealand, which is one of the five least corrupt countries in the world, is below countries like Austria and Spain in GDP but has safer roads, as measured by fatalities per 10,000 vehicles. Russia, on the other hand, is ranked as more corrupt than other countries at similar development levels, and its roads reflect that fact: Moscow is filled with notoriously corrupt traffic cops and cars blazing through traffic jams with ersatz blue sirens. Russia itself reportedly accounts for two-thirds of Europe's road fatalities. traffic fatalities. But a study by a group of U.S. economists concluded that the statistical relationship between corruption (as measured by the International Country Risk Guide) and traffic fatalities was actually stronger than the link between income and traffic fatalities. What they were saying, essentially, is that money is not enough. Even when countries become wealthy enough to start shifting attention to things like traffic safety, one still needs credible laws and credible people to enforce the laws. New Zealand, which is one of the five least corrupt countries in the world, is below countries like Austria and Spain in GDP but has safer roads, as measured by fatalities per 10,000 vehicles. Russia, on the other hand, is ranked as more corrupt than other countries at similar development levels, and its roads reflect that fact: Moscow is filled with notoriously corrupt traffic cops and cars blazing through traffic jams with ersatz blue sirens. Russia itself reportedly accounts for two-thirds of Europe's road fatalities.

The complex question of why poorer countries seem to suffer from more corruption and whether that corruption is a bad thing in itself has long been debated among economists and social scientists. Some argue that "efficient corruption" is a useful and necessary cost of rapid economic development, that bribes and rule skirting can be used to outwit creaky centralized bureaucracies. Others counter that corrupt politicians are not necessarily faster politicians, in terms of hustling development projects through, and may actually slow things down to get even more money. Corruption is a brake on development, they say. Countries like China, which are booming and and have relatively widespread corruption, could be developing even faster if corruption were tamed, they contend. The first group argues that a system in which firms have to pay kickbacks to corrupt government officials means that the firm with the most "efficient" bid will also be able to afford the highest bribe, while the second group maintains that this system rewards inefficient firms. Daniel Kaufmann, an economist with the World Bank and a leading critic of corruption, uses the example of a firm that was disqualified because its bid was beneath the acceptable "minimum." have relatively widespread corruption, could be developing even faster if corruption were tamed, they contend. The first group argues that a system in which firms have to pay kickbacks to corrupt government officials means that the firm with the most "efficient" bid will also be able to afford the highest bribe, while the second group maintains that this system rewards inefficient firms. Daniel Kaufmann, an economist with the World Bank and a leading critic of corruption, uses the example of a firm that was disqualified because its bid was beneath the acceptable "minimum."

With traffic, it's arguably corruption that gets in the way of economic growth, not the other way around. While no economist would view a traffic jam as an efficient use of resources, traffic congestion can symbolize the economic vitality of a country (simply because miles driven usually increase in stronger economic times). "Bad" traffic can be seen as just an outcome of that success. But corruption itself can cause traffic problems, the sort that represent a drain on economic growth, not an outcome. Take, for example, the myriad roadblocks that are a daily fact of life in many developing countries. The process typically has little to do with vehicle inspection or safety and a lot to do with police or soldiers trying to extract something "for the boys." Corruption does not speed a driver's way through some bureaucratic tangle; rather, the tangle is formed because because of corruption. of corruption.

In some places, these systems are so entrenched that they can take on the logic of an economic system, a kind of "corruption pricing" instead of "congestion pricing." A study of the bribes that Indonesian truckers had to pay at military checkpoints showed that the closer the truckers got to their destination, the higher the bribe. (The officials also charged more for newer trucks and trucks carrying valuable cargo.) When the number of checkpoints dropped after the military scaled back its forces, the average bribe per checkpoint increased, leaving the researchers to conclude that fewer traffic officials may be better (although their absence may invite criminals to take their place).

As the economist Tim Harford observed after a visit to Cameroon (one of the world's poorest and most corruption-plagued countries), corruption in traffic is tremendously unfair and inefficient. Protracted "inspections" and bartering over small amounts slows the flow of goods and people. The money goes into the pockets of underpaid officials, not to fixing roads or making them safer. Trip times and costs become wildly unpredictable. Robert Guest, Africa correspondent for the Economist, Economist, wrote of once accompanying the driver of a Guinness beer truck on a three-hundred-mile journey in Cameroon. The trip, which might have taken twenty hours elsewhere, took four days. The reason was in part the crumbling roads, but also the forty-seven checkpoints at which they were forced to stop for dubious safety inspections and petty bribes. Drivers suffer not only the hardship of bad roads but the privilege of paying to use them. The bribes paid and the ensuing delays get pa.s.sed on to beer consumers in the form of higher prices. Guest's suggestion: "Lift those roadblocks and put the police to work repairing potholes." wrote of once accompanying the driver of a Guinness beer truck on a three-hundred-mile journey in Cameroon. The trip, which might have taken twenty hours elsewhere, took four days. The reason was in part the crumbling roads, but also the forty-seven checkpoints at which they were forced to stop for dubious safety inspections and petty bribes. Drivers suffer not only the hardship of bad roads but the privilege of paying to use them. The bribes paid and the ensuing delays get pa.s.sed on to beer consumers in the form of higher prices. Guest's suggestion: "Lift those roadblocks and put the police to work repairing potholes."

Corruption begins at street level. The traffic cop is its foot soldier, the agent of bad traffic. He pulls over motorists for phantom violations, reducing not only traffic flow but the incentive for any driver to follow the law. Some argue that corrupt cops increase increase the incentive to follow the law because these cops are that much more on the lookout for excuses to issue a fine, but this presumes they are actually pulling people over for legitimate reasons. As one of the average person's primary interfaces with the legal system, the traffic cop becomes a symbol of the legitimacy of the regime. And what about the traffic he's directing? Corruption casts its shadow there as well. the incentive to follow the law because these cops are that much more on the lookout for excuses to issue a fine, but this presumes they are actually pulling people over for legitimate reasons. As one of the average person's primary interfaces with the legal system, the traffic cop becomes a symbol of the legitimacy of the regime. And what about the traffic he's directing? Corruption casts its shadow there as well.

To return to the frenetic streets of Delhi: My impression was that many drivers did not seem to be particularly qualified for a license. There's a good reason for this. A study conducted by a team of researchers for the U.S. National Bureau of Economic Research looked at the process of getting a driver's license in Delhi. The group tracked 822 individuals in three groups: a "bonus" group, whose members would get a financial reward if they could obtain a license in the fastest time legally possible; a "lesson" group, whose members were given free driving lessons before they attempted to get the license; and a "comparison" group, which was given no special instructions.

The researchers found that those who wanted the license soonest-that is, the members of the bonus group-got it more often, and faster, than people in the other groups. The reason, it turned out, was that like many drivers in Delhi, they used an "agent" to speed the process. But when the researchers later gave all the survey partic.i.p.ants a driving test, 69 percent of the bonus group failed, compared to just 11 percent of the drivers who had taken lessons. But learning to drive properly clearly did not pay off: The people who had the best driving skills were 29 percent less likely to get a license than the people with the worst driving skills. Corruption did indeed grease the wheels, but at the expense of the quality of those behind the wheel. "Corruption," the authors wrote, "appears to subst.i.tute for actual driving skill."

This study provides a hint about how the norms discussed in the previous section evolve and flourish. The scores of new drivers who land on Delhi streets each month learn the norms of a system made up of the collective experience of all the previous drivers who bribed their way through the Regional Transport Office. No small wonder this traffic system isn't marked by scrupulous attention to formal rules. In the writer Pavan Varma's description of what motivates corruption in India, it is not hard to see a metaphor for the country's traffic behavior: "In a cut-throat world, the immediate task is to get on with the job, to reach a desired goal, to finesse an obstacle. The premium is on pragmatism and agility, the capacity to seize an opportunity when it comes, and to profit when possible. What matters is not fixity of principle but clarity of purpose."

What is is surprising is how strong these corruption norms can be, even in a different context. In one study, the economists Ray Fisman and Edward Miguel looked at the number of parking tickets issued to diplomats in New York City between 1997 and 2002. During this time, diplomats could be given parking tickets, but there was no enforceable punishment for not paying them. Thus empowered, diplomats racked up some 150,000 tickets. surprising is how strong these corruption norms can be, even in a different context. In one study, the economists Ray Fisman and Edward Miguel looked at the number of parking tickets issued to diplomats in New York City between 1997 and 2002. During this time, diplomats could be given parking tickets, but there was no enforceable punishment for not paying them. Thus empowered, diplomats racked up some 150,000 tickets.

The tickets were not acquired randomly. The diplomats who got the most tickets tended to be from the countries deemed to be more corrupt by the Transparency International index (those countries also got more "egregious" tickets, such as for blocking fire hydrants). The countries whose diplomats received no no tickets included Sweden, Norway, j.a.pan, and Denmark-judged among the least corrupt countries. These countries were scrupulous in following the law, even when it was clearly not necessary. India, in case you were wondering, was roughly halfway down the list, just as it is on the corruption index. Lest you think I am singling out India, I might add that the United States emba.s.sy in London, as of 2007, owed the highest amount (ahead of even corruption-plagued Nigeria) of unpaid traffic congestion-pricing fees to the city of London. The United States, which claims that its diplomats are exempt from the congestion-pricing "tax," is not one of the ten least corrupt countries (it was ranked twentieth in 2007). (The least-corrupt country, Finland, whose diplomats are also exempt from taxes, pays the charge.) tickets included Sweden, Norway, j.a.pan, and Denmark-judged among the least corrupt countries. These countries were scrupulous in following the law, even when it was clearly not necessary. India, in case you were wondering, was roughly halfway down the list, just as it is on the corruption index. Lest you think I am singling out India, I might add that the United States emba.s.sy in London, as of 2007, owed the highest amount (ahead of even corruption-plagued Nigeria) of unpaid traffic congestion-pricing fees to the city of London. The United States, which claims that its diplomats are exempt from the congestion-pricing "tax," is not one of the ten least corrupt countries (it was ranked twentieth in 2007). (The least-corrupt country, Finland, whose diplomats are also exempt from taxes, pays the charge.) In traffic, laws are only as good as the norms regarding them. This may be why, as I discussed in Chapter 7, the engineer Hans Monderman could strip the signs from a roundabout and Dutch drivers would still act in a responsible, safe manner; and why, in other countries, a roundabout can be filled with signs and drivers will still act in an irresponsible, dangerous manner. Which brings us back to two questions: Are developing countries fated to have a disproportionate share of traffic fatalities? And how many of these fatalities come from lack of money, how many from laws or norms weakened by corruption? The pa.s.sengers crowded into unsafely overloaded buses may be there because it's the only transportation they can afford or because there is no one to stop the bus from being overloaded-perhaps because the government thinks it can't afford to not not let people ride the overcrowded bus. let people ride the overcrowded bus.

The vexing, intertwined nature of this dilemma is reflected in a piece of Hindi slang I learned while in Delhi: jugad. jugad. The word has a shifting palette of meanings, mostly arrayed around the central idea of "creative improvisation." It can refer, on the one hand, to the jury-rigged vehicles one finds in India, especially in rural areas. Lacking money for a car, say, a farmer will craft a functioning vehicle out of an old motorcycle, a car axle, and a diesel engine. That this The word has a shifting palette of meanings, mostly arrayed around the central idea of "creative improvisation." It can refer, on the one hand, to the jury-rigged vehicles one finds in India, especially in rural areas. Lacking money for a car, say, a farmer will craft a functioning vehicle out of an old motorcycle, a car axle, and a diesel engine. That this jugad jugad vehicle might not be safe, at least when it's sharing the road with newer cars, is one of the clear kinds of traffic risks that come with lack of money. vehicle might not be safe, at least when it's sharing the road with newer cars, is one of the clear kinds of traffic risks that come with lack of money.

But jugad jugad is also used as a kind of surrogate for "bribe" here it refers to doing whatever needs to be done to get something accomplished. The case of the Delhi drivers who acquired licenses quickly is a form of is also used as a kind of surrogate for "bribe" here it refers to doing whatever needs to be done to get something accomplished. The case of the Delhi drivers who acquired licenses quickly is a form of jugad jugad in practice. Would-be drivers know that corrupt bureaucrats respond more to money than driving skills. Is this kind of corruption, which has a ripple effect that translates into the myriad traffic violations that occur in Delhi every day-and studies suggest that the more traffic laws are violated, the more casualties there will be-purely an effect of lack of resources? Or is it, as many would argue, precisely the sort of thing that holds up the development of a country? If GDP and traffic fatalities are somewhat related, and GDP and corruption are somewhat related, and traffic fatalities and corruption seem to be the most clearly related, then fighting corruption may be the best way to lower traffic fatalities and raise GDP. in practice. Would-be drivers know that corrupt bureaucrats respond more to money than driving skills. Is this kind of corruption, which has a ripple effect that translates into the myriad traffic violations that occur in Delhi every day-and studies suggest that the more traffic laws are violated, the more casualties there will be-purely an effect of lack of resources? Or is it, as many would argue, precisely the sort of thing that holds up the development of a country? If GDP and traffic fatalities are somewhat related, and GDP and corruption are somewhat related, and traffic fatalities and corruption seem to be the most clearly related, then fighting corruption may be the best way to lower traffic fatalities and raise GDP.

There are, after all, creative ways of combating corruption that do not require huge amounts of money. In Mexico City, Alfredo Hernandez Garcia, the city's traffic czar, described a novel plan to fight corruption and improve traffic safety. In 2007, he noted, the last of the city's male traffic officers had been phased out, replaced entirely by women (known as cisnes, cisnes, or "swans"). Why? "Because women are less likely to be corrupted," he explained in his office in the Secretaria de Seguridad Publica. Previously, Mexico City traffic cops were famous for soliciting or "swans"). Why? "Because women are less likely to be corrupted," he explained in his office in the Secretaria de Seguridad Publica. Previously, Mexico City traffic cops were famous for soliciting refrescos refrescos or "soft drinks"-that is, bribes in lieu of a ticket. According to Hernandez Garcia, the or "soft drinks"-that is, bribes in lieu of a ticket. According to Hernandez Garcia, the cisnes cisnes have increased the number of tickets written on the order of 300 percent. They have been given handheld units to issue tickets and ensure payment-drivers can use credit cards-and take photographs. "People do not accept they are breaking the law," he said. "We have to provide evidence." have increased the number of tickets written on the order of 300 percent. They have been given handheld units to issue tickets and ensure payment-drivers can use credit cards-and take photographs. "People do not accept they are breaking the law," he said. "We have to provide evidence."

The theory of women as less corruptible may be based on more than the hunches of a few higher-ups in the police department. A study by a group of U.S. economists found that women were less likely to engage in hypothetical corruption, that female managers in one country they studied were less likely to engage in actual corruption, and that the countries that rank as least corrupt on the global indices tend to have more women in government. Indeed, they may be onto something: Finland, ranked as the least-corrupt country in the world, set the record in 2007 for having the government with the most women in cabinet-level positions. As you will recall, they do not mess about with their traffic tickets.

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Why You Shouldn't Drive with a Beer-Drinking Divorced Doctor Named Fred on Super Bowl Sunday in a Pickup Truck in Rural Montana: What's Risky on the Road and Why Semiconscious Fear: How We Misunderstand the Risks of the Road In a bas.e.m.e.nt laboratory in the looming red-brick Henry Ford Hospital in Detroit, Michigan, a team of researchers has, for the past few years, been looking at what happens to our brains as we drive. The device that measures the faint magnetic fields the brain emits is too ma.s.sive to fit inside of a car, so research subjects are instead studied in the hospital's Neuromagnetism Laboratory, where they watch film clips of a car navigating through traffic. As I lay back on the cozy bed inside the magnetically shielded lab to get a feel for the procedure, Richard Young, a scientist with General Motors who leads the research team, told me, "Our biggest problem is people falling asleep in the bed."

To keep people awake as they play pa.s.senger to the filmed driving, subjects are given a simple "event-detection task." When a red light near the screen goes on, the subject, attached to a neuromagnetometer, presses a simulated brake pedal. This simple habit of braking in response to a red light (i.e, brake lights), something drivers do an estimated fifty thousand times a year, triggers a burst of activity in the brain. The visual cortex lights up about 80 to 110 milliseconds after the red signal comes on. This indicates that you have seen the signal. The left prefrontal lobe, an area of the brain linked to decision making, begins to buzz with activity. This is the microinstant during which you're deciding what to do with the information you have acquired-here, the rather simple response of simply pressing the brake. It comes about 300 milliseconds before you actually do it. About 180 milliseconds before braking begins, the motor cortex sees action-your foot is about to be told to move. About 80 milliseconds after you have pressed the brake, the visual cortex is again activated. You're registering that the red signal has been turned off.

The scientists are probing the neural pathways involved in what they call the "mind on the drive," in part to learn what cell phone conversations and other activities do to our brains as we drive. But sometimes, as they watch these real-time movies of people's brains in traffic, there are strange and unantic.i.p.ated plot twists.

Once, while watching the real-time fMRI (functional magnetic resonance imaging) readings of a subject, Young noticed a burst of brain activity, not during the braking event but during "normal" driving. "There was a spike. There were brain areas lighting up in the emotional cortex, the amygdala, the limbic cortex, the lower brain," Young recalled. This hinted at more complex responses than what usually showed up in the fairly well-conditioned responses to braking or keeping the vehicle on the road at a certain speed. What was going on? Young compared the activity to the actual video of the drive. At the moment his brain went on the boil, the driver was pa.s.sing a semitrailer. After the trial, Young asked the subject if he had noticed "anything unusual during the last run." He had. According to Young, "The person said, 'Oh yes, I was pa.s.sing that eighteen-wheeler and every time I pa.s.s one of those things I get real nervous.'"

That small peek into the brain of the driver revealed a simple, if underappreciated truth about driving: When we are in traffic, we all become on-the-fly risk a.n.a.lysts. We are endlessly having to make snap decisions in fragments of moments, about whether it is safe to turn in front of an oncoming car, about the right speed to travel on a curve, about how soon we should apply the brakes when we see a cl.u.s.ter of brake lights in the distance. We make these decisions not with some kind of mathematical probability in the back of our heads-I have a 97.5 percent chance of pa.s.sing this car successfully-but with a complicated set of human tools. These could be cobbled from the most primeval instincts lurking in the ancient brain, the experience from a lifetime of driving, or something we heard yesterday on the television news.

On the one hand, it was perfectly natural, normal, and wise for the driver in Detroit to show fear in the face of an eighteen-wheeler. Large trucks, from the point of view of a car, are dangerous. Because of the staggering differences in ma.s.s-trucks weigh twenty to thirty times more than a car-the simple physics of a collision are horrifically skewed against the car. When trucks and cars collide, nearly nine of ten times it's the truck driver who walks away alive.

As the driver's brain activity would seem to indicate, we know this on some instinctual level, as if our discomfort in driving next to a looming truck on a highway is some modern version of the moment our prehistoric ancestor felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise when confronted with a large predator. Indeed, the amygdala, one of the areas that lit up in the Detroit driver, is thought to be linked with fear. It can be activated even before the cognitive regions kick in-neuroscientists have described the amygdala as a kind of alarm that triggers our attention to things we should probably fear. And we all likely have proof of the dangerous nature of trucks. We have seen cars crumpled on the roadside. We've heard news stories of truck drivers, wired on stimulants, forced to drive the deregulated trucking industry's increasingly long shifts. We can easily recall being tailgated or cut off by some crazy trucker.

Just one thing complicates this image of trucks as the biggest hazard on the road today: In most cases, when cars and trucks collide, the car bears the greater share of what are called "contributory factors." This was the surprising conclusion that Daniel Blower, a researcher at the University of Michigan Transport Research Inst.i.tute, came to after sifting through two years' worth of federal crash data.

It was a controversial finding. Blower, to begin with, had to determine that it did not simply stem from "survivor bias": "The truck driver is the only one that survives these eighty-five percent of the time," he explained. "He's the one who gets to tell the story. That's what's reflected in the police report." So he dug deeper into the records, a.n.a.lyzing the relative position and motion of the vehicles before a crash. Instead of relying on drivers' accounts, he looked at "unmistakable" physical evidence. "In certain crash types like head-ons, the vehicle that crosses the center much more likely contributed to the crash than the vehicle that didn't cross the center line," he said. "Similarly, in rear-end crashes, the striking vehicle in the crash is much more likely to have contributed to the crash in a major way than the vehicle that was struck." After examining more than five thousand fatal truck-car crashes, Blower found that in 70 percent of cases, the driver of the car had the sole sole contributing responsibility in the crash. contributing responsibility in the crash.

This hardly means trucks are not dangerous. But the reason trucks are dangerous seems to have more to do with the actions of car drivers combined with the physical characteristics of trucks (in head-on collisions, for example, they are obviously less able to get out of the way) and less to do with the actions of truck drivers. "The caricature that we have that the highways are thronged with fatigued, drug-addled truck drivers is, I think, just wrong," Blower said. Certainly there are aggressive truck drivers and truckers jacked up on methamphetamine, but the more pressing problem, the evidence tells us, seems to be that car drivers do not fully understand the risk of heavy trucks as they drive in their presence. This is not something we are necessarily taught when we learn to drive. "In a light vehicle you are correct to be afraid of them, but it's not because the drivers are disproportionately aggressive or bad drivers," Blower said. "It's because of physics, truck design, the different performance characteristics. You can make a mistake around a Geo Metro and live to tell about it. You make that same mistake around a truck and you could easily be dead."

What all this seems to suggest is that car drivers have less to fear from trucks than from what they themselves do around trucks. I had a glimpse of this a few years back when I rode in an eighteen-wheel tractor-trailer for the first time, watching in horror as cars darted in front of the truck with dangerous proximity, sometimes disappearing from sight beneath the truck's long, high hood. So why does it seem that virtually everyone, like my Latin-teacher friend in the Prologue, has some horror story about crazy truckers?

One possible answer goes back to the spike in brain activity of the Detroit driver. He was afraid, probably before he even knew why. The size of trucks makes most of us nervous-and rightfully so. When we have a close brush with a truck or we see the horrific results of a crash between a car and a truck, it undoubtedly leaves a greater impression on our consciousness, which can skew our view of the world. "Being tailgated by a big truck is worth getting tailgated by fifty Geo Metros," as Blower put it. "It stays with you, and you generalize with that." (Studies have suggested that people think there are more trucks on the road than is actually the case.) Here's the conundrum: If, on both an instinctual level and a more intellectual level, the drivers of cars fear trucks, why do car drivers, in so many cases, act so dangerously around them? The answer, as we are about to see, is that on the road we make imperfect guesses as to exactly what is risky and why, and we act on those biases in ways we may not even be aware of.

Should I Stay or Should I Go? Why Risk on the Road Is So Complicated Psychologists have suggested that we generally think about risk in two different ways. One way, called "risk as a.n.a.lysis," involves reason, logic, and careful consideration about the consequences of choices. This is what we do when we tell ourselves, on the way to the airport with a nervous stomach, "Statistically, flying is much safer than driving."

The second way has been called "risk as feelings." This is why you have the nervous stomach in the first place. Perhaps it's the act of leaving the ground: Flying just seems seems more dangerous than driving, even though you keep telling yourself it isn't. Studies have suggested that we tend to lean more on "risk as feelings" when we have less time to make a decision, which seems like a survival instinct. It was smart of the Detroit driver to feel risk from the truck next to him, but the instinctual fear response doesn't always help us. In collisions between cars and deer, for example, the greatest risk to the driver comes in trying to avoid hitting the animal. No one with a conscience wants to hit a deer, but we may also be fooled into thinking that the deer itself presents the greatest hazard. Hence the traffic signs that say more dangerous than driving, even though you keep telling yourself it isn't. Studies have suggested that we tend to lean more on "risk as feelings" when we have less time to make a decision, which seems like a survival instinct. It was smart of the Detroit driver to feel risk from the truck next to him, but the instinctual fear response doesn't always help us. In collisions between cars and deer, for example, the greatest risk to the driver comes in trying to avoid hitting the animal. No one with a conscience wants to hit a deer, but we may also be fooled into thinking that the deer itself presents the greatest hazard. Hence the traffic signs that say DON'T VEER WHEN YOU SEE A DEER. DON'T VEER WHEN YOU SEE A DEER.

One good reason why we rely on our feelings in thinking about risk is that "risk as a.n.a.lysis" is an incredibly complex and daunting process, more familiar to mathematicians and actuaries than the average driver. Even when we're given actual probabilities of risk on the road, often the picture just gets muddier. Take the simple question of whether driving is safe or dangerous. Consider two sets of statistics: For every 100 million miles that are driven in vehicles in the United States, there are 1.3 deaths. One hundred million miles is a ma.s.sive distance, the rough equivalent of crisscrossing the country more than thirty thousand times. Now consider another number: If you drive an average of 15,500 miles per year, as many Americans do, there is a roughly 1 in 100 chance you'll die in a fatal car crash over a lifetime of 50 years of driving.

To most people, the first statistic sounds a whole lot better than the second. Each trip taken is incredibly safe. On an average drive to work or the mall, you'd have a 1 in 100 million chance of dying in a car crash. Over a lifetime of trips, however, it doesn't sound as good: 1 in 100. How do you know if this one trip is going to be the the trip? Psychologists, as you may suspect, have found that we are more sensitive to the latter sorts of statistics. When subjects in one study were given odds, similar to the aforementioned ones, of dying in a car crash on a "per trip" versus a "per lifetime" basis, more people said they were in favor of seat-belt laws when given the lifetime probability. trip? Psychologists, as you may suspect, have found that we are more sensitive to the latter sorts of statistics. When subjects in one study were given odds, similar to the aforementioned ones, of dying in a car crash on a "per trip" versus a "per lifetime" basis, more people said they were in favor of seat-belt laws when given the lifetime probability.

This is why, it has been argued, it has long been difficult to convince people to drive in a safer manner. Each safe trip we take reinforces the image of a safe trip. It sometimes hardly seems worth the bother to wear a seat belt for a short trip to a local store, given that the odds are so low. But events that the odds say will almost certainly never happen have a strange way of happening sometimes (risk scholars call these moments "black swans"). Or, perhaps more accurately, when they do happen we are utterly unprepared for them-suddenly, there's a train at the always empty railroad crossing.

The risk of driving can be framed in several ways. One way is that most people get through a lifetime without a fatal car crash. Another way, as described by one study, is that "traffic fatalities are by far the most important contributor to the danger of leaving home." If you considered only the first line of thinking, you might drive without much of a sense of risk. If you listened to only the second, you might never again get in a car. There is a built-in dilemma to how societies think about the risk of driving; driving is is relatively safe, considering how much it is done, but it could be much safer. How much safer? If the number of deaths on the road were held to the acceptable-risk standards that the U.S. Occupational Safety and Health Administration maintains for service-industry fatalities, it has been estimated, there would be just under four thousand deaths a year; instead, the number is eleven times that. Does telling people it is dangerous make it safer? relatively safe, considering how much it is done, but it could be much safer. How much safer? If the number of deaths on the road were held to the acceptable-risk standards that the U.S. Occupational Safety and Health Administration maintains for service-industry fatalities, it has been estimated, there would be just under four thousand deaths a year; instead, the number is eleven times that. Does telling people it is dangerous make it safer?

One often hears, on television or the radio, such slogans as "Every fifteen minutes, a driver is killed in an alcohol-related crash" or "Every thirteen minutes, someone dies in a fatal car crash." This is meant, presumably, to suggest not just the magnitude of the problem but the idea that a fatal crash can happen to anyone, anywhere. And it can. Yet even when these slogans leave out the words "on average," as they often do, we still do not take it to mean that someone is actually dying, like clockwork, every fifteen minutes.

These kinds of averages obscure the startling extent to which risk on the road is not average. Take the late-night hours on weekends. How dangerous are they? In an average year, more people were killed in the United States on Sat.u.r.day and Sunday from midnight to three a.m. than all those who were killed from midnight to three a.m. the rest of the week. In other words, just two nights accounted for a majority of the week's deaths in that time period. On Sunday mornings from twelve a.m. to three a.m., there was not one driver dying every thirteen minutes but one driver dying every seven minutes. By contrast, on Wednesday mornings from three a.m. to six a.m., a driver was killed every thirty-two minutes.

Time of day has a huge influence on what kinds of crashes occur. The average driver faces the highest risk of a crash during the morning and evening rush hours, simply because the volume of traffic is highest. But fatal crashes occur much less often during rush hours; one study found that 8 of every 1,000 crashes that happened outside the peak hours were fatal, while during the rush hour the number dropped to 3 out of every 1,000. During the weekdays, one theory goes, a kind of "commuters' code" is in effect. The roads are filled with people going to work, driving in heavy congestion (one of the best road-safety measures, with respect to fatalities), by and large sober. The morning rush hour in the United States is twice as safe as the evening rush hour, in terms of fatal and non-fatal crashes. In the afternoon, the roads get more crowded with drivers out shopping, picking up the kids or the dry cleaning. Drivers are also more likely to have had a drink or two. The "afternoon dip," or the circadian fatigue that typically sets in around two p.m., also raises the crash risk.

What's so striking about the ma.s.sive numbers of fatalities on weekend mornings is the fact that so few people are on the roads, and so many-estimates are as high as 25 percent-have been drinking. Or think of the Fourth of July, one of the busiest travel days in the country and also, statistically, the most dangerous day to be on the road. It isn't simply that more people are out driving, in which case more fatalities would be expected-and thus the day would not necessarily be more dangerous in terms of crash rate. It has more to do with what people are doing on the Fourth: Studies have shown there are more alcohol-related crashes on the Fourth of July than on the same days the week before or after-and, as it happens, many more than during any other holiday.

What's the actual risk imposed by a drunk driver, and what should the penalty be to offset that risk? The economists Steven D. Levitt and Jack Porter have argued that legally drunk drivers between the hours of eight p.m. and five a.m. are thirteen times more likely than sober drivers to cause a fatal crash, and those with legally acceptable amounts of alcohol are seven times more likely. Of the 11,000 drunk-driving fatalities in the period they studied, the majority-8,000-were the drivers and the pa.s.sengers, while 3,000 were other drivers (the vast majority of whom were sober). Levitt and Porter argue that the appropriate fine for drunk driving in the United States, tallying up the externalities that it causes, should be about $8,000.

Risk is not distributed randomly on the road. In traffic, the roulette wheel is loaded. Who you are, where you are, how old you are, how you are driving, when you are driving, and what you are driving all exert their forces on the spinning wheel. Some of these are as you might expect; some may surprise you.

Imagine, if you will, Fred, the pickup-driving divorced Montana doctor out for a spin after the Super Bowl who is mentioned in this chapter's t.i.tle. Obviously, Fred is a fictional creation, and even if he did exist there'd be no way to judge the actual risk of driving with him. But each of the little things about Fred, and the way those things interact, play their own part in building a profile of Fred's risk on the road.

The most important risk factor, one that is subtly implicated in all the others, is speed. In a crash, the risk of dying rises with speed. This is common sense, and has been demonstrated in any number of studies. In a crash at 50 miles per hour, you're fifteen times more likely to die than in a crash at 25 miles per hour-not twice as likely, as you might innocently expect from the doubling of the speed. The relationships are not proportional but exponential: Risk begins to accelerate much faster than speed. A crash when you're driving 35 miles per hour causes a third third more frontal damage than one where you're doing 30 miles per hour. more frontal damage than one where you're doing 30 miles per hour.

Somewhat more controversial is the relationship between speed and the potential for a crash. It is known that drivers who have more speeding violations tend to get into more crashes. But studies have also looked at the speeds of vehicles that crashed on a given road, compared them to the speeds of vehicles that did not crash, and tried to figure out how speed affects the likelihood that one will crash. (One problem is that it's extremely hard to tell how fast cars in crashes were actually going.) Some rough guidelines have been offered. An Australian study found that for a mean speed-not a speed limit-of 60 kilometers per hour (about 37 miles per hour), the risk of a crash doubled for every additional 5 kilometers per hour.

In 1964, one of the first and most famous studies of crash risk based on speed was published, giving rise to the so-called Solomon curve, after its author, David Solomon, a researcher with the U.S. Federal Highway Administration. Crash rates, Solomon found after examining crash records on various sections of rural highway, seemed to follow a U-shaped curve: They were lowest for drivers traveling at the median speed and sloped upward for those going more or less than the median speed. Most strikingly, Solomon reported that "low speed drivers are more likely to be involved in accidents than relatively high speed drivers."

Solomon's finding, despite being almost a half century old, has become a sort of mythic (and misunderstood) touchstone in the speed-limit debate, a h.o.a.ry banner waved by those arguing in favor of higher speed limits. It's not the actual speed itself that's the safety problem, they insist, it's speed variance. speed variance. If those slower drivers would just get up to speed, the roads would flow in smooth harmony. It's not speed that kills, it's variance. (This belief, studies have indicated, is most strongly held by young males-who are, after all, experts, given that they get in the most crashes.) And what causes the most variance? Speed limits that are too low! If those slower drivers would just get up to speed, the roads would flow in smooth harmony. It's not speed that kills, it's variance. (This belief, studies have indicated, is most strongly held by young males-who are, after all, experts, given that they get in the most crashes.) And what causes the most variance? Speed limits that are too low!

Dear reader, much as I-as guilty as anyone of an occasional craving for speed-would like to believe this, the arguments against it are too compelling. For one, it a.s.sumes that the drivers who are going slow want to be driving slowly, and are not simply slowing for congested traffic, or entering a road from a turn, when they are suddenly hit by one of those drivers traveling the mean speed or higher. Solomon himself acknowledged (but downplayed) that these kinds of events might account for nearly half of the rear-end crashes at low speeds. Studies have found that a majority of rear-end crashes involved a stopped vehicle, which presumably had stopped for a good reason-and not to get in the way of the would-be speed maven behind him. Further, Gary Davis, an engineering professor at the University of Minnesota, proving yet again that statistics are one of the most dangerous things about traffic, has suggested there is a disconnect-what statisticians call an "ecological fallacy"-at work in speed-variance studies. Individual risk is conflated with the "aggregate" risk, even if in reality, he suggests, what holds for the whole group might not hold for individuals.

In pure traffic-engineering theory, a world that really exists only on computer screens and in the dreams of traffic engineers and bears little resemblance to how drivers actually behave, a highway of cars all flowing at the same speed is a good thing. The fewer cars you overtake, the lower your chance of hitting someone or being hit. But this requires a world without cars slowing to change lanes to enter the highway, because they are momentarily lost, or because they're hitting the tail end of a traffic jam. In any case, if faster cars being put at risk by slower cars were the mythical problem some have made it out to be, highway carnage would be dominated by cars trying to pa.s.s-but in fact, one study found that in 1996, a mere 5 percent of fatal crashes involved two vehicles traveling in the same direction. A much more common fatal crash is a driver moving at high speed leaving the road and hitting an object that isn't moving at all. That is a case where speed variance really does kill.

Let us move on to perhaps the oddest risk factor: Super Bowl Sunday. In one study, researchers compared crash data with the start and end times of all prior Super Bowl broadcasts. They divided all the Super Bowl Sundays into three intervals (before, during, and after). They then compared Super Bowl Sundays to nonSuper Bowl Sundays. They found that in the before-the-game period, there was no discernible change in fatalities. During the game, when presumably more people would be off the roads, the fatal crash rate was 11 percent less than on a normal Sunday. After the game, they reported a relative increase in fatalities of 41 percent. The relative risks were higher in the places whose teams had lost.

The primary reason for the increased postgame risk is one that I have already discussed: drinking. Nearly twenty times more beer is drunk in total on Super Bowl Sunday than on an average day. Fred's risk would obviously be influenced by how many beers he had downed (beer, at least in the United States, is what most drivers pulled over for DUIs have been drinking) and the other factors that determine blood alcohol concentration (BAC). Increases in crash risk, as a number of studies have shown, begin to kick in with as little as .02 percent BAC level, start to crest significantly at .05 percent, and spike sharply at .08 to .1 percent.

Determining crash risk based on a person's BAC depends, of course, on the person. A famous study in Grand Rapids, Michigan, in the 1960s (one that would help establish the legal BAC limits in many countries), which pulled over drivers at random, found that drivers who had a .01 to .04 percent BAC level actually had fewer fewer crashes than drivers with a BAC of zero. This so-called Grand Rapids dip led to the controversial speculation that drivers who had had "just a few" were more aware of the risks of driving, or of getting pulled over, and so drove more safely; others argued that regular drinkers were more capable of "handling" a small intake. crashes than drivers with a BAC of zero. This so-called Grand Rapids dip led to the controversial speculation that drivers who had had "just a few" were more aware of the risks of driving, or of getting pulled over, and so drove more safely; others argued that regular drinkers were more capable of "handling" a small intake.

The Grand Rapids dip has shown up in other studies, but it has been downplayed as another statistical fallacy-the "zero BAC" group in Michigan, for example, had more younger and older drivers, who are statistically less safe. Even critics of the study, however, noted that people who reported drinking with greater frequency had safer safer driving records than their teetotaler counterparts at every level of BAC, including zero. This does not mean that drinkers are better drivers per se, or that having a beer makes you a better driver. But the question of what makes a person a safe driver is more complicated than the mere absence of alcohol. As Leonard Evans notes, the effects of alcohol on driver driving records than their teetotaler counterparts at every level of BAC, including zero. This does not mean that drinkers are better drivers per se, or that having a beer makes you a better driver. But the question of what makes a person a safe driver is more complicated than the mere absence of alcohol. As Leonard Evans notes, the effects of alcohol on driver performance performance are well known, but the effects of alcohol on driver are well known, but the effects of alcohol on driver behavior behavior are not empirically predictable. Here is where the tangled paths of the cautious driver who has had a few, carefully obeying the speed limit, and the distracted sober driver, blazing over the limit and talking on the phone, intersect. Neither may be driving as well as they think they are, and one's poorer reflexes may be mirrored by the other's slower time to notice a hazard. Only one is demonized, but they're both dangerous. are not empirically predictable. Here is where the tangled paths of the cautious driver who has had a few, carefully obeying the speed limit, and the distracted sober driver, blazing over the limit and talking on the phone, intersect. Neither may be driving as well as they think they are, and one's poorer reflexes may be mirrored by the other's slower time to notice a hazard. Only one is demonized, but they're both dangerous.

The second key risk is Fred himself. Not because he is Fred, for there is no evidence that people named Fred get in more crashes than people named Max or Jerry. It is the fact that Fred is male. Across every age group in the United States, men are more likely than women to be involved in fatal crashes-in fact, in the average year, more than twice as many men as women are likely to be killed in a car, even though there are more women than men in the country. The global ratio is even higher. Men do drive more, but after that difference is taken into account, their fatal crash rates are still higher.

According to estimates by researchers at Carnegie Mellon University, men die at the rate of 1.3 deaths per 100 million miles; for women the rate is .73. Men die at the rate of 14.51 deaths per 100 million trips, while for women it is 6.55. And crucially, men face .70 deaths per 100 million minutes, while for women the rate is .36. It may be true that men drive more, and drive for longer periods when they do drive, but this does not change the fact that for each minute they're on the road, each mile they drive, and each trip they take, they are more likely to be killed-and to kill others-than women.

It is tempting to use this information to make some point about whether men or women are "better drivers," but that's complicated by the fact that in the United States, women get into nonfatal crashes at a higher rate than men. This might be at least partially the result of men driving more on roads that are more p.r.o.ne to fatal crashes (e.g., rural high-speed two-lane roads). What can can be argued is that men drive more aggressively than women. Men may or may not be better drivers than women, but they seem to die more often trying to prove that they are. be argued is that men drive more aggressively than women. Men may or may not be better drivers than women, but they seem to die more often trying to prove that they are.

As a gender, men seem particularly troubled by two potent compounds: alcohol and testosterone. Men are twice as likely as women to be involved in an alcohol-related fatal crash. They're more likely to drink, to drink more, and to drive more after they drink. On the testosterone side, men are less likely to wear seat belts; and by just about every measure, they drive more aggressively. Men do things like ride motorcycles more often than women, an activity that is twenty-two times more likely to result in death than driving a car. Male motorcyclists, from Vietnam to Greece to the United States, are less likely than women to wear a helmet. As we all know, alcohol and testosterone mix in unpleasant ways, so motorcyclists who have been drinking are less likely to wear helmets than those who have not, just as male drivers who have been drinking are less likely to wear seat belts than those who are sober.

The fact that Fred is divorced puts him in a riskier pool. A French study that looked into the experiences of some thirteen thousand company employees over eight years found that a recent divorce or separation was linked to a fourfold increase in the risk of a crash that could be at least partially attributed to the driver. One could hypothesize many reasons: There's the emotional stress (as John Hiatt once sang in a breakup song, "Don't think about her while you're trying to drive"), and perhaps more drinking. Or there may be lifestyle changes, like driving more to visit the kids on weekends. Perhaps people who get divorced are simply the type of people who take more risks. Fred might take some comfort, however, from a New Zealand study that found that people who have never been married have even a higher crash risk than those who are divorced. (The study took into account age and gender differences.) Fred may not have a life partner, but he should be glad if you chose to join him in his truck: Pa.s.sengers seem to be a life-saving device. Studies from Spain to California have come to the conclusion that a driver has a lower chance of being in a fatal crash if there's a pa.s.senger. This holds particularly true for middle-aged drivers-especially when the pa.s.senger is a woman and the driver is a man. (Whether this stems from men looking out for women or women telling men to drive more safely is open to debate.) The exception here is teenage drivers. Teens are less likely to be wearing seat belts and more likely to be drinking when driving when there are are pa.s.sengers in the car. Many studies have found that teen drivers are more likely to crash with pa.s.sengers...o...b..ard, which is why, in many places, teens are restricted from carrying pa.s.sengers of their own age during their first few years of driving. pa.s.sengers in the car. Many studies have found that teen drivers are more likely to crash with pa.s.sengers...o...b..ard, which is why, in many places, teens are restricted from carrying pa.s.sengers of their own age during their first few years of driving.

Researchers are beginning to uncover fascinating things about how that risk plays out. A study that looked at the drivers exiting the parking lot at ten different high schools found that teenage drivers seemed to drive faster and follow cars at closer distances than other drivers did. Males drove more riskily than females. This is common knowledge, verified by insurance rates. But their risk-taking varied: Male drivers drove faster and followed closer when they had a male riding shotgun. When they had a female in the front seat, they actually behaved less less riskily, and they were safer still when they drove by themselves (a pattern that also held for female drivers). riskily, and they were safer still when they drove by themselves (a pattern that also held for female drivers).

What seems to be a need to impress in the presence of males turns into a protective impulse when a female pa.s.senger (possibly a girlfriend) is in the car-or it could be that the female pa.s.senger serves as the voice of reason. This "girlfriend effect" seems to take root early and persist through later life. It need not be a romantic partner: The Israel Defense Forces, in an effort to reduce road deaths for soldiers on leave, trains female soldiers (dubbed "angels") to act as a "calming" influence on their male comrades.

Now consider where where Fred is driving. What's the matter with Montana? In 2005, 205 people were killed on Montana's roads, roughly one-third the number that were killed in New Jersey. But Montana has just under one-tenth the population of New Jersey. People clearly drive more in Montana, but even adjusting for what is known as VMT (or "vehicle miles traveled"), Montana drivers are still twice as likely as New Jersey drivers to die on the roads. The big culprit is alcohol: Montana drivers were nearly three times as likely as New Jersey drivers to be involved in an alcohol-related fatal crash. Montana also has higher speed limits than New Jersey, and fewer chances to get caught violating traffic laws. And, most importantly, most Montana roads are rural. Fred is driving. What's the matter with Montana? In 2005, 205 people were killed on Montana's roads, roughly one-third the number that were killed in New Jersey. But Montana has just under one-tenth the population of New Jersey. People clearly drive more in Montana, but even adjusting for what is known as VMT (or "vehicle miles traveled"), Montana drivers are still twice as likely as New Jersey drivers to die on the roads. The big culprit is alcohol: Montana drivers were nearly three times as likely as New Jersey drivers to be involved in an alcohol-related fatal crash. Montana also has higher speed limits than New Jersey, and fewer chances to get caught violating traffic laws. And, most importantly, most Montana roads are rural.

There is, in theory, nothing nicer than a drive in the country, away from the "crazy traffic" of the city. But there is also nothing more dangerous. We would all do well to heed what the sign says: IT'S G.o.d COUNTRY, DON'T DRIVE LIKE h.e.l.l THROUGH IT. IT'S G.o.d COUNTRY, DON'T DRIVE LIKE h.e.l.l THROUGH IT. Rural, noninterstate roads have a death rate more than two and half times higher than all other roads-even after adjusting for the fewer vehicles found on rural roads. Taking a curve on a rural, noninterstate road is more than six times as dangerous as doing so on any other road. Most crashes involve single cars leaving the roadway, which suggests poorly marked roads, high speeds, fatigue or falling asleep, or alcohol-or some combination of any or all of these. When crashes do happen, medical help is often far away. Rural, noninterstate roads have a death rate more than two and half times higher than all other roads-even after adjusting for the fewer vehicles found on rural roads. Taking a curve on a rural, noninterstate road is more than six times as dangerous as doing so on any other road. Most crashes involve single cars leaving the roadway, which suggests poorly marked roads, high speeds, fatigue or falling asleep, or alcohol-or some combination of any or all of these. When crashes do happen, medical help is often far away.

In Fred's case, he is is the medical a.s.sistance. But what of the fact that he is a doctor? Why should that be a risk? Doctors are usually well-educated, affluent, upstanding members of the community; they drive expensive cars in good condition. But a study by Quality Planning Corporation, a San Franciscobased insurance research firm, found doctors to have the second-highest crash risk in an eight-month sample of a million drivers, just after students (whose risk is largely influenced by their young age). Why is that? Are doctors overconfident, type A drivers racing from open-heart surgery to the golf course? the medical a.s.sistance. But what of the fact that he is a doctor? Why should that be a risk? Doctors are usually well-educated, affluent, upstanding members of the community; they drive expensive cars in good condition. But a study by Quality Planning Corporation, a San Franciscobased insurance research firm, found doctors to have the second-highest crash risk in an eight-month sample of a million drivers, just after students (whose risk is largely influenced by their young age). Why is that? Are doctors overconfident, type A drivers racing from open-heart surgery to the golf course?

One simple contributing factor may be that, in the United States at least, many doctors are male (nearly 75 percent in 2005). But firefighters and pilots are usually male as well, and those two professions were at the bottom of the risk list. Firefighters spend a lot of time in fire stations, not on the road, and pilots spend much of their time in the air. Exposure matters, which is seemingly why real estate agents, always driving from house to house, showed up high on the list. (Architects ranked high as well, prompting QPC's vice president to speculate that they're often distracted by looking at buildings!) Doctors drive a lot, often in urban settings, often with a certain urgency, perhaps dispensing advice via cell phone. Most important, they may also be tired. A report in the New England Journal of Medicine New England Journal of Medicine suggested that every time in a given month interns at Harvard Medical School pulled an extended shift, their crash risk rose by 9.1 percent. The more shifts they worked, the greater the risk that they would fall asleep while stopped in traffic, or even while driving. suggested that every time in a given month interns at Harvard Medical School pulled an extended shift, their crash risk rose by 9.1 percent. The more shifts they worked, the gr