Who Cares Anyway?

QUESTION: IF YOU put the legislative branch of the U.S. Government in an automobile traveling west at 61 m.p.h. on a clear day with a 15 m.p.h. tail wind, would they have themselves arrested for speeding?

Answer: Go figure. Up until recently the Congress has been tightening the stranglehold of laws regulating and relating to the use of our nation's roads. Now it seems they have reversed direction.

First, they threatened to withhold federal highway funds from states which failed to enact and enforce a 55 m.p.h. speed limit. The purpose of this act was to save fuel and reduce highway fatalities.

Next, they used the same trick to force the states into establishing a uniform drinking age, and then again to force them into enacting seatbelt laws. Again, the justification was that such laws would increase highway safety.

But last Wednesday the Senate formally approved a bill which would, among other things, permit a 65 m.p.h. speed limit on some roads. Other portions of the bill include a plan to remove billboards from the nation's roadsides, and a provision to discourage highway contractors from investing in South Africa.

Now, to a person like me--that is, reckless, feckless, and armed with someone else's gas card--this sounds like a good thing. At the very least it could reduce the number of speeding tickets, and maybe even the number of Sunday drivers, that often put a damper on my high-speed sojourns.

But then again, the Senate giveth, and the Senate taketh away. For all I know, they might throw the metaphorical roadster of highway safety back into fourth gear and drive off into the sunset of restrictive legislation. Maybe next week they'd raise the drinking age to 31 and require every occupant of a car to be strapped to an inflated air bag with 20-lb. test fishing line. I decided to withhold judgement until I could talk to an expert.

THE MAN I was looking for was Rutger Fury, former political columnist for the National Enquirer. I found him looking for leads in the dumpster behind the Capitol building. "Rutger," I said, "What's the dope on this new Senate bill?"

"Dope? In the Senate? Can I quote you?"

"No, not in, on the Senate. The 65 m.p.h. bill."

"Oh, damn. Well, I don't know. But I don't like it."

I was shocked. "You don't like it? But Rutger, you're part of the New Right. I thought you supported personal rights--the right to drive fast, to own a gun, to force your religious views on others."

He thought a minute. "Yes, I suppose that's true. But I'm still up in arms about it." He waved his hands in the air to demonstrate.

"But why? Surely this is one bill you can't criticize just for the sake of criticism."

"Sure I can...for example: the billboard provision. If we get a higher speed limit, we also lose our nation's billboards. That's a serious infringement on our rights."

"What rights?" I asked.

"Well, the right to know. For example, when I'm driving south on 1-95, I often ask myself, 'Am I only 1,000 miles from South of the Border?' That's a question only a billboard can answer."

I was beginning to see his point. If the bill made it through the house, glitzy roadside tourist spots would take a beating. But I pointed out that this might be a good thing.

"No, you misunderstand me. I like to keep at least 1,000 miles away from South of the Border. I'm allergic to black velvet paintings."

"Fair enough. But what about the South Africa provision--isn't that a effective statement against apartheid?"

"Now hold on--the provision you're referring to is more than a statement; it will actually allow local governments to reject low bids on road work contracts from companies which do business in South Africa. Personally, I feel that only people crazy enough to carry on business there are crazy enough to work on American highways. No sane man would dodge speeding El Dorados to pour molten asphalt for a living."

"Okay, so you don't like the other two provisions. But what about raising the speed limit? You have to admit that's good news."

His brow furrowed. A large drop of sweat formed on Rutger's prominent brow, then rolled off, extinguishing his Camel filterless. He spoke. "No, it's bad."

"But why?"

"Well, it's setting a precedent, for one thing. If the government goes changing the speed limit every decade, they'll start thinking they can change it whenever they want. You'll go to bed and the speed limit will be 120; you'll wake up and Route 66 will be designated a school zone. It'll wreak havoc."

"So you're saying the government has to be consistent?"

"No, that would be dull. But it should at least know what it wants. In the '70s the government was telling us to drive safely and save fuel--now they seem to want wastefulness and wanton destruction. I think they must have gotten their domestic and Central American policies mixed up."

OBVIOUSLY, POLITICS was more complicated than I had realized. Years of hard work, selfless determination, and $1000-a-plate dinners would be needed before I could hope to fathom such a complex issue. But I had one final question for Mr. Fury before I left.

"Okay, Rutger, you don't like the new bill. But if it passes, will you go 65?"

"No point changing my habits," he shrugged. "I'll just keep on driving 70 like everyone else."