Imagine ...
I have a car. It is full of things from my life - papers, books, guitar picks, empty candy wrappers, loose change, extra dog biscuits, and so on. It is decorated according to my taste, with bumper stickers, fuzzy dice, etc. I keep it fueled and oiled, I have the engine and brakes and tires checked on a regular basis.
I have to get somewhere. I decide to take the highway.
I go above the speed limit. I weave in and out of lanes.
Another driver reacts to my driving, loses control, crashes, and dies.
People try to blame me.
I tell them I'm not to blame. I was not driving that other car. The driver did not keep out of my way. He had no right to use my lane.
I was just driving my own car. I had places to go. I had things to do.
Don't try to oppress me with antiquated traffic laws.
Don’t tell me what I can do with my car.
As for critics who don’t drive or own a car: No car, no opinion.
I am driver, hear my engine roar.
My car. My choice.
Keep your regulations off my carburetor.
My husband says that they’ll have to pry his combustible engine from his cold dead hands. He loves to drive and he loves to drive fast. He loves the independence and freedom it gives him. He hates the idea of being forced to own an electric car. The infrastructure just isn’t there to maintain the lifestyle he wants and enjoys.