A Quote by Oren Etzioni
I'm not a big fan of self-driving cars where there's no steering wheel or brake pedal. Knowing what I know about computer vision and AI, I'd be pretty uncomfortable with that. But I am a fan of a combined system - one that can brake for you if you fall asleep at the wheel, for example.
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Making a movie is like you're behind the wheel, and you're driving through the obstacle course, and the pedal is down, and you can't brake.
You brake and then turn the wheel, step on the clutch, and pull the e-brake. Release the e-brake, go into countersteer mode, then wait. Wait until you know the car is facing the corner exit direction. then you smile and slam on the gas as you exit the corner.
There are times I'm approaching turns with my right hand on the brake lever, I'm downshifting with my fingers, I'm controlling the throttle with my left hand and steering into the corner with only one hand on the wheel. I feel a bit like Jimi Hendrix: I play with both my hands.
You have to maintain the balance between fast growth and smooth growth. It's like driving a car and knowing when to balance the gas pedal and the brake.
I'm always on the road, and I drive rental cars. Sometimes I don't know what's going on with the car, and I'll drive for ten miles with the emergency brake on. That doesn't say a lot for me, but it doesn't say a lot for the emergency brake. What kind of emergency is this? I need to not stop now. It's not really an emergency brake, it's an emergency make-the-car-smell-funny lever.
It will be as if I'd never existed. The words ran through my head, lacking the perfect clarity of my hallucination last night. They were just words, soundless, like print on a page. Just words, but they ripped the hole wide open, and I stomped on the brake, knowing I should not drive while this incapacitated. I curled over, pressing my face against the steering wheel and trying to breathe without lungs.
Beyond self-driving cars, I think all airplanes should go pilotless. Get the pilots out of there. Even better, have no cockpit at all, and turn it into a nice lounge with a bar. Why give people the illusion of control with a steering wheel?
The wheel and the brake have different duties, but also one in common: to hurt one another.
Mallory dropped her head to the steering wheel. "Look, I'm mad at you, okay? This isn't about me. I know my painful memories are relative. My life is good. I'm lucky. This isn't about how poor little Mallory has had it so hard. I'm not falling apart or anything." He stroked a hand down her back. "Of course you're not. You're just holding the steering wheel up with your head for a minute, that's all.
You have a brake in your brain that stops you doing stupid things. The older you are, the earlier that brake comes on. When you're 20 you stop at nothing; when you're older you're cleverer than when you're 20, so your brain brake operates more often!
The brutal reality about aging is that it has only an accelerator pedal. We have yet to discover whether a brake exists for people.
In Louisiana, you can drive when you're 15 - you could get your driving permit. I remember, during driver's ed, I fell asleep at the wheel one day. I was tired. The guy shook me and switched and said he was getting into the driver's seat. I didn't fail, so I guess you can fall asleep occasionally. It's Louisiana.
The wrong kind of guy to fall in love with is the guy who will let go of the steering wheel as a joke. A guy who finds it amusing to make you uncomfortable, which is more common than you'd think, is someone you want to avoid.
Low self-esteem is like driving through life with your hand-brake on.
The driver is normally responsible for adjusting the brake balance, so if it is happening automatically you could brake later and take more speed into each corner.
When I started driving our old four-door green DeSoto, I always took Skip on my trips around town. I would get Skip to prop himself against the steering wheel, his black head peering out of the windshield, while I crouched out of sight under the dashboard. Slowing the car to ten or fifteen, I would guide the steering wheel with my right hand while Skip, with his paws, kept it steady. As we drove by the Blue Front Café, I could hear one of the men shout: "Look at that ol' dog drivin' a car!"
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