Driving Under the Influence.(of coffee and other distractions)

I fell in love with driving in America 30 years ago. I'd hired a Chevy two-seater in San Francisco and headed for Los Angeles. It had an automatic transmission, my first, and I still remember the feeling of true exhilaration as I rolled down the Pacific Coast Highway, coffee in one hand and a finger on the steering wheel. Then followed many years in the motoring wilderness: half a decade lurching a Lada around Russia's potholed roads; another in Beijing, where I learned never to make eye contact with other drivers--otherwise they wouldn't get out of your way.

Now that I'm in the States again I appreciate even more the luxury of American roads, a cup of French roast in hand. I take to the interstate whenever possible, especially now that flying means long lines and removing shoes at airport security. Few other countries are so geared for efficient motoring, I think. One can drive from the Atlantic to the Pacific without encountering a single traffic light. And apart from New York cabbies, American drivers are remarkably courteous. At four-way stop signs, to the amazement of all foreigners except possibly Germans, they politely wait their turns, proceeding clockwise one by one. No need to avoid eye contact here. Often we amiably wave hello.

For all this, Americans are among the most accident-prone automobilists anywhere. I pass fender benders and pileups almost daily, it seems, and read recently that the number of people killed on the nation's highways is the highest in a dozen years. The most dangerous places in my experience are the deceptively calm and tranquil suburbs, where the speed limit is 30 miles per hour. I've been in more near collisions in Bethesda, outside Wash-ington, than on the New Jersey Turnpike.

Perhaps this is because cars in America are so comfortable and easy to use. Drivers relax too much. Especially in the suburbs, ...