Editorial

Privately-owned vehicles were never so safe as they are today. Nor have they made so much sense. That thought hit me between the nostrils recently, as I sprayed a pungent disinfectant on the steering wheel of my family's B-segment runabout. Carefully wiping down the car's touch points with antibacterial cleaners has become a new pandemic ritual for us after returning home from food shopping and other essential missions.

My little tribe generally keeps the interiors of our two vehicles tidy. Finding the occasional French fry buried in a seat track is, however, preferable to the dangerous microbes deposited every minute in the typical bus, train, or ride-share. The term “clean,” as understood by transit passengers, means a few spritzes by a custodial crew racing to meet uptime targets.