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The Miami Herald Fred Grimm columnJan 26, 2012 (The Miami Herald - McClatchy-Tribune Information Services via COMTEX) -- Driverless cars are hardly a new concept on South Florida freeways, where the oblivious, drunk and distracted swerve in and out of lanes. If they're not kamikaze, they've got to be comatose. Companion bills now moving through both houses of the state Legislature would legalize such highway stupor. Except, if the Autonomous Vehicle Technology Act passes, robots take control. "Vehicles equipped with autonomous technology may be operated on roads in this state by employees or contractors of manufacturers of autonomous technology for the purpose of testing the technology. "For testing purposes, the vehicle may operate without the active control of a human operator, but the operation of the test vehicle must be continuously monitored in a manner that allows active control over the vehicle to be immediately assumed by a human operator." The latter assumes that the so-called human operator, at a moment of emergency, has not drifted into an iPhone fugue. The robot car bill, HB 1207, was approved Tuesday, 15-0, by the House Transportation and Highway Safety Subcommittee. The Senate version, SB 1768, comes before the Senate Transportation Committee Thursday afternoon. The legislation would make way for the Google self-driving car that the company has already turned loose in northern California. Google claims its test fleet of six autonomous Toyota Priuses and an Audi TT, festooned with radar and laser sensors and satellite antennae, have driven some 200,000 miles without a major smashup. The company figures to be selling Googlemobiles by 2013. Northern California, however, is not South Florida, where the Google robot cars are apt to encounter human road behavior beyond the parameters of computer logic. Unless Google merges its driving software with the 2011 edition of Mortal Kombat. Could a Googlemobile understand the vagueness conveyed by a red light at a Fort Lauderdale intersection? Or the inscrutable reasoning that keeps a 1987 Toyota Corolla below 40 mph in the I-95 express lane? Can the Google Autonomous Car convey the glaring don't-mess-with-me-because-I'm-off-my-meds expression required to merge onto the Shula at 5:37 p.m.? Have Google's engineers figured out that the horn has replaced the brake on the streets of Miami? How can the Google car approximate a raised middle finger? Can the scanners on something as unmanly as a Prius discern the difference between a mildly angry human driver armed with, say, a Glock, and a raging bull whose world outlook requires an AK-47 with a 30-round banana clip? Google, of course, figures that computer-driven cars would be a hell of a lot more responsible than the human variety, who account for 33,000 traffic deaths a year in the U.S. (2,373 last year in Florida). Google's engineers also brag that computerized cars, even in heavy traffic, can zip along just a foot behind the preceding automobile. Except in Miami, that would double the usual distance between bumpers. There's also a certain Google tendency nagging at the concept. It has to do with all those gigabytes of personal information the company has compiled about us. Particularly our commercial inclinations. Creating the slightly creepy ads tailored to our anticipated wants. One can imagine telling the Google car, "Take me to the park," and the car taking an unauthorized detour to Macy's or Michael's Genuine or Amnesia Club on South Beach. (You may have amnesia, but Google never forgets). My own lack of enthusiasm for autonomous cars might have to do with an unhappy personal encounter with robotic technology. My new iPhone 4s features Siri, the voice recognition gadget with a nice, understanding female voice programmed to automatically do my bidding. (The robotic antithesis of what I can remember of marriage.). Except sweet Siri can't seem to cope with a West Virginia drawl. First thing, I asked for the guided tour of my new iPhone's capabilities, "Siri, what can you do?" Siri, reaching into the obsolete depths of my "contacts list," answered, to my horror, "Calling Carey's cellphone." Carey sure as hell didn't want to hear from me. Especially not at 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning. Made me wonder how wrong it could go when my Google car encountered an Appalachian accent. "Take me to do my taxes," and off I go to Texas. Where I have an ex. Of the Glock variety. "Siri! Siri! Do something!" "Calling Carey's cellphone." ___ (c)2012 The Miami Herald Visit The Miami Herald at www.miamiherald.com Distributed by MCT Information Services |