Your keyless car is broadcasting the signal thieves need to steal it — here's how to protect yourself



On a recent episode of "The Drive," my co-host, Karl Brauer, mentioned taking his 2018 Dodge Demon to the dealership and having his car's key-programming system permanently locked down. The trade-off was significant: If Karl lost his keys, the dealer couldn't simply program him another one. The car's Radio Frequency Hub would have to be replaced before new keys could be programmed.

Why would anyone deliberately make his own car that inconvenient?

Fortunately, one of the easiest precautions against relay theft specifically is remarkably low-tech.

Because Karl was worried somebody else might make a key first.

Fob job

Challengers and Chargers, particularly high-performance models such as the Hellcat and Demon, had become notorious theft targets after criminals discovered they could exploit the same electronic system dealers used to program replacement keys. After getting into the vehicle, thieves could access the RF Hub and program their own fob. The car would then recognize the thief's new key as legitimate.

Karl's solution turned out to anticipate Dodge's own. The company later introduced Key Programming Lockdown, which permanently disabled new key programming through the RF Hub. Dodge acknowledged the inconvenience: If an owner lost all existing keys, the RF Hub itself would have to be replaced.

While Dodge addressed this particular vulnerability, that was only one way thieves were learning to defeat modern vehicle security. Other attacks don't require programming a new key at all.

Relay race

Take the proximity key. You keep the fob in your pocket, walk up to the vehicle, open the door, and press a button to start. It works because the key and vehicle communicate wirelessly — and thieves have learned how to exploit that communication too.

One increasingly common method is known as a relay attack. Using electronic equipment, thieves can capture or extend the signal from a legitimate key fob inside a house to a vehicle parked outside. The car thinks the key is nearby, allowing the thief to unlock it, start it, and drive away.

This isn't the old image of somebody smashing a window and hot-wiring an ignition. As vehicles have become more technologically sophisticated, so have the people stealing them.

Bluetooth blues

And new vulnerabilities continue to emerge. In July 2026, University of California San Diego researchers disclosed a Bluetooth flaw affecting dealer-installed KARR/SWDS anti-theft systems in at least 2.2 million vehicles. Researchers found that a nearby attacker could potentially exploit the system to unlock doors and interfere with the immobilizer.

These aren't all the same attack. The Dodge thieves programmed a new key. Relay thieves fool the car into believing the owner's existing key is nearby. The KARR vulnerability involved Bluetooth. But they all demonstrate the security challenge created as vehicles become increasingly dependent on wireless electronics.

Your car may recognize you automatically. Your phone can become a digital key. Doors unlock as you approach. Apps can start vehicles remotely. Each feature offers convenience, but each wireless connection also creates something manufacturers have to secure.

RELATED: Gone in 60 seconds: How high-tech thieves can steal your car

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Low-tech fix

Fortunately, one of the easiest precautions against relay theft specifically is remarkably low-tech: Put your keys in a Faraday pouch when you're home, particularly if your vehicle sits outside. A properly functioning Faraday enclosure blocks the signal thieves are trying to relay.

Also think about where you leave your keys. Tossing them on a table beside the front door or garage can make the signal easier to reach.

I know how miserable vehicle theft can be because it happened to me.

Years ago, my modified 1985 Mustang GT was stolen. Police eventually found it stripped and burned. Then came the insurance fight, and the theft even affected my insurance afterward.

People sometimes joke that if an insured car gets stolen, it's the insurance company's problem. It isn't. You're the one filing police reports, dealing with adjusters, finding replacement transportation, and potentially watching your insurance costs rise. If the vehicle is dismantled for parts, shipped overseas, or otherwise disappears into the criminal supply chain, there's a good chance you'll never see it again.

Automakers have spent years making it unnecessary to take a key out of your pocket. Thieves have spent those same years learning how to attack the technology that replaced it.

Sometimes the smartest way to protect a $50,000 vehicle is a $20 pouch that stops your expensive technology from talking to anybody.

Washington is finally trying to shut the door on Chinese cars. Europe shows why.



For years, Western automakers looked at China and saw the world's greatest growth opportunity.

China looked back and saw something else: teachers.

Semiconductor manufacturing offers the obvious lesson. The United States is now spending enormous sums trying to re-create domestic capacity that took decades to move overseas.

American, German, and Japanese automakers wanted access to more than a billion potential customers. China frequently required foreign companies to work with local partners, manufacture inside the country, and share the knowledge that comes with doing so.

The arrangement made enormous amounts of money for Western car companies.

It also helped China learn, very quickly, how to compete with them.

Now Chinese automakers are producing increasingly sophisticated vehicles at prices Western manufacturers struggle to match, and Europe is discovering what happens when those cars arrive in large numbers.

Washington appears determined not to repeat the experiment.

Saving our spot

A bipartisan proposal called the Connected Vehicle Security Act of 2026 advanced unanimously through the Senate Commerce Committee last month. Sponsored in the Senate by Bernie Moreno of Ohio and Elissa Slotkin of Michigan, it would dramatically strengthen restrictions on Chinese vehicles and connected automotive technology entering the United States.

For once, Democrats and Republicans seem to have found something they agree on.

The obvious fear is economic. China can build some astonishingly inexpensive vehicles, particularly EVs, and Chinese manufacturers including BYD, Geely, and others are already putting tremendous pressure on established brands overseas.

But Congress isn't framing this purely as a trade dispute. Modern automobiles are packed with cameras, microphones, GPS equipment, cellular connections, driver-assistance systems, and software capable of receiving remote updates.

That means a connected car is also a data-collection device.

Fast and firewalled

The Commerce Department reached the same conclusion under the Biden administration. In January 2025, it finalized rules restricting connected-vehicle software and hardware with sufficient ties to China or Russia, citing the possibility of espionage, data collection, sabotage, and remote manipulation.

The new congressional proposal would go farther and put many of those protections into statute, making them much harder for a future administration simply to reverse.

The Senate version would restrict vehicles, software, and components associated with designated foreign adversaries. Supporters specifically argue that Chinese-connected vehicles could funnel sensitive information collected on American roads back to Beijing.

That's not a crazy concern.

A new car can know where you live, where you work, where your children go to school, which military installation you enter every morning, and exactly where the vehicle travels every day.

The debate over Chinese cars therefore isn't really just about whether Americans should be allowed to buy a cheap BYD.

It's about who controls the computers rolling around American streets.

Training our replacement?

There is an uncomfortable part of this story that Western manufacturers don't always like discussing.

China did not learn modern automobile production from scratch. Foreign automakers spent decades helping.

As auto industry commentator Michael Harley recently pointed out in a conversation with Karl Brauer and me, intellectual property is only part of what China acquired.

Manufacturing itself is knowledge.

How do you coordinate thousands of suppliers? How do parts arrive at exactly the right moment? How do you engineer a production line? How do you control tolerances, automate assembly, manage quality, and move from prototype to millions of vehicles?

American manufacturers accumulated that knowledge over more than a century.

Chinese companies were able to compress much of that learning curve into a few decades while working alongside some of the world's best automotive companies.

Western executives didn't do this because they were stupid. China was simply too attractive to ignore.

For a long time, the bargain worked.

GM sold enormous numbers of Buicks there. Volkswagen became deeply embedded in the Chinese market. Mercedes-Benz and BMW treated China as essential to future growth.

The problem is that China eventually became very good at building its own cars.

Learning the hard way

The result is now visible in Europe.

Chinese manufacturers have entered European markets aggressively, particularly with EVs. European governments have responded with tariffs and investigations, but domestic manufacturers are still confronting lower-cost competitors at the same time their Chinese sales are under pressure.

That combination is painful.

For decades, German manufacturers could use strong sales in China to support enormous operations back home.

Now they're fighting Chinese companies in China and increasingly fighting them in Europe too.

That's exactly the scenario American lawmakers want to prevent.

The United States already keeps most Chinese-made EVs out through tariffs and national-security restrictions. The new bill would make the wall substantially higher.

There are complications. Reuters reported that the legislation's ownership provisions could even affect Mercedes-Benz because Chinese investors hold nearly 20% of the German company, although lawmakers may revise the language before final passage.

That illustrates how deeply Chinese capital and technology are already woven into the global car business. Untangling it will not be simple.

RELATED: The Senate wants to lock the door on cheap Chinese cars — is 'security' the whole story?

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Expensive at any price

Consumers understandably care about price.

If somebody offers an attractive electric SUV for $25,000 while a comparable American vehicle costs $40,000, telling families to spend the extra $15,000 for geopolitical reasons is a difficult sales pitch.

That's precisely what makes China such a formidable competitor.

The Chinese auto industry has enormous manufacturing scale, substantial state support, a massive domestic supply chain, and leadership in battery production.

Americans would benefit in the short term from having access to inexpensive vehicles. The question is what happens afterward.

We've seen this pattern with electronics, consumer goods, pharmaceuticals, and industrial production. Once domestic capability disappears, rebuilding it is painfully slow and enormously expensive.

Semiconductor manufacturing offers the obvious lesson. The United States is now spending enormous sums trying to re-create domestic capacity that took decades to move overseas.

Automobile manufacturing is much harder to rebuild than it is to destroy.

Playing the same game

Free trade works best when everybody is playing something resembling the same game.

China never viewed its automobile industry purely as a collection of private companies competing for customers. It treated automotive manufacturing, batteries, raw materials, and increasingly vehicle software as strategic industries.

America is finally beginning to think strategically too.

There are legitimate questions about exactly how broad the Connected Vehicle Security Act should be, how it treats foreign companies with minority Chinese ownership, and whether some restrictions will increase prices for American consumers.

Congress should work through those problems carefully. But the larger principle is sound. The United States does not need to repeat Europe's mistake simply because a $20,000 Chinese EV looks irresistible today.

Sometimes the cheapest car is not the cheapest decision.

Keep your eyes on the road — your car is watching



Automotive safety technology was supposed to help you keep your eyes on the road. Increasingly, it is keeping its eyes on you.

More new vehicles are equipped with cameras pointed directly at the driver, tracking where you look, whether your eyes are open, and whether the computer thinks you're paying enough attention. Look down at the touch screen too long and you may hear a warning. Turn your head away from the windshield and the steering wheel may vibrate.

There is a major difference between a sensor detecting that you're drifting out of your lane and a camera continuously observing your face.

This technology is no longer simply an optional gadget dreamed up by automakers. In Europe, regulators now require new vehicles to include systems capable of detecting driver distraction.

On a recent episode of "The Drive," co-host Karl Brauer and I spoke with longtime automotive journalist Michael Harley of Forbes about where this technology is heading.

The stated purpose is safety, and there are good reasons for that. But once a camera is installed inside your car, watching you every second you're behind the wheel, another question becomes unavoidable: Who else eventually gets to watch?

Stay focused

Subaru provides a good example of how quickly driver monitoring has moved into ordinary cars.

Its DriverFocus system uses a near-infrared camera aimed at the driver's eyes and head. Subaru says the system can identify signs of distraction or drowsiness and warn the driver accordingly. Because the camera is infrared, it can continue monitoring the driver even when the cabin is dark.

The intention is easy to understand. Distracted driving kills people, and so does falling asleep behind the wheel.

There is also evidence that many drivers appreciate the technology. An Insurance Institute for Highway Safety study of nearly 3,500 Subaru owners found that 87% used DriverFocus most or every time they drove, while about 70% said they would want the system on their next vehicle.

But that same research identified the downside. Drivers reported false alarms, and some said the warnings came too frequently. Annoyance was one of the main reasons owners switched the system off.

Karl and I have each experienced this ourselves in new vehicles. Modern cars increasingly offer automatic emergency braking, adaptive cruise control, lane-centering systems, and other technology specifically designed to compensate when a driver makes a mistake. Yet some of those same cars are becoming more aggressive about policing exactly where the driver is looking.

RELATED: Lucid makes one of the best EVs in America. That may not be enough to save it.

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Nanny cam

This isn't only about automakers deciding what features customers might like.

Europe is turning driver monitoring into regulation.

Under the European Union's General Safety Regulation, all newly sold vehicles have been required since July 2024 to include technology warning drivers about drowsiness. Beginning in July 2026, additional rules require advanced systems designed to detect driver distraction as well.

The EU doesn't explicitly say every manufacturer must put an infrared camera in your face. The regulation is based on what the system must accomplish rather than specifying one particular piece of hardware.

In practice, however, camera-based systems are an obvious way to meet those requirements, and they're already becoming common.

Once these systems become mandatory in a market as enormous as Europe, automakers have another incentive to design them into vehicles everywhere rather than engineer completely different cars for different countries. That's why American drivers should pay attention.

Close quarters

Here is where I become uncomfortable.

There is a major difference between a sensor detecting that you're drifting out of your lane and a camera continuously observing your face.

Michael explained just how capable these systems already are:

“They’re [infrared] cameras ... watching every single thing in real time inside the car, and it's triggering verbal, audible and/or haptic alarms," he said.

“And you cannot defeat it. Some of them you can turn off, but the second you restart the car, it starts all over again. ... It's just a memory chip ... away from being able to record the telemetry."

Today's camera may simply analyze the information inside the vehicle and generate an alert. Technologically, however, there isn't an enormous distance between a camera that sees what you're doing and a system that stores or transmits what it sees.

Modern cars are already rolling computers connected to manufacturer servers through cellular networks. Automakers have collected driving data and shared information with third parties, while insurance companies increasingly offer policies based on telematics.

Cars can already record enormous amounts of information about speed, location, braking, acceleration, and crashes. Add an interior camera, and the vehicle potentially knows not only where you went and how you drove, but what you were doing while you drove there.

Were you looking at the road or at your phone? Were you yawning? Did you appear sleepy? Who else was inside the vehicle?

Manufacturers will tell us these systems have privacy safeguards, and many of them do. But privacy policies can change. So can software, regulations, and the circumstances under which information can be demanded by law enforcement or other third parties.

The hardware remains pointed at you.

Eyes have it

This is usually how intrusive technology arrives: not through some grand announcement that everybody will now be monitored, but through a series of individually reasonable steps.

It's there to detect drowsiness. It's there to make sure you're paying attention. It's there to prevent crashes.

Each argument has merit. I don't want a sleepy driver drifting across the center line any more than anyone else does. Consumers should nevertheless ask where the boundary lies.

A seatbelt protects me without needing to know where I'm looking. An airbag doesn't watch my face. Anti-lock brakes don't care who is sitting beside me.

Driver-monitoring cameras are different because they introduce something automobiles never historically required: a machine observing the occupants of the car in real time.

Governments are now beginning to require the systems capable of doing that.

New normal

There is one more irony.

Cars are becoming more capable of assisting the driver at precisely the moment manufacturers and regulators are becoming more insistent about monitoring the human being behind the wheel.

Your vehicle can steer, brake, maintain its distance from the car ahead, and in some cases even change lanes and navigate highway interchanges. But glance away for a little too long, and the same car starts scolding you.

Maybe these systems will save lives. I hope they do.

Before Americans normalize cameras watching drivers in every new automobile, however, we deserve clear answers about what those systems collect, whether any information leaves the vehicle, how long it can be retained, and who can obtain it.

Once the camera becomes standard equipment, the question is no longer whether the car can watch you. It's who gets access to what it sees.

Lucid makes one of the best EVs in America. That may not be enough to save it.



There are plenty of reasons for an electric car company to fail.

Maybe the car is badly engineered. Maybe the range disappoints. Maybe the software is a mess. Maybe buyers simply don't like the product.

There are only so many Americans willing and able to spend close to six figures on an electric vehicle.

Lucid has a more troubling problem: It makes an excellent car.

Driver's 'Dream'

I've driven Lucids, including the spectacular Air Dream Edition, and there is very little to complain about from behind the wheel. The Air is fast, beautifully finished, extraordinarily efficient, and capable of the kind of range that makes most other electric vehicles look dated.

Yet the company behind it is once again confronting the brutal economics of building cars.

Lucid announced this week that it is embarking on what management calls an "operational reset," with plans to cut costs by roughly $1.4 billion this year. The company is reducing spending and inventory while delaying the launch of its more affordable midsize vehicles until the second half of 2027.

That delay may be the most important part of the story.

Lucid desperately needs a vehicle ordinary luxury-car buyers can afford. Instead, it remains heavily dependent on expensive models at precisely the moment the upper end of the EV market is getting harder to crack.

Pulling a Tesla?

Lucid's problem isn't really its product. That's unusual among struggling EV start-ups.

Fisker had serious product and execution problems. Other newcomers have arrived with cars that felt unfinished, badly priced, or both.

The Lucid Air is different. It demonstrated from the beginning that a start-up could challenge Tesla on efficiency, range, performance, and luxury.

But engineering a great car and building a sustainable car company are very different skills.

Lucid entered the market primarily with expensive sedans, then followed with the Gravity SUV. That gives the company impressive halo vehicles, but it limits the pool of potential customers.

There are only so many Americans willing and able to spend close to six figures on an electric vehicle.

Tesla confronted this problem years ago by moving down-market after establishing itself with expensive cars. Lucid has been trying to do something similar, but the cheaper model it needs keeps getting pushed further into the future.

Lucid now says those midsize vehicles won't arrive until the latter half of 2027.

That's a long time when you're burning cash.

Changing market

Lucid isn't dealing only with its own growing pains.

The entire electric vehicle industry has gone through a reset.

Automakers that once talked about replacing nearly their entire gasoline-powered lineups with EVs have pulled back investments, delayed factories, canceled models, and rediscovered hybrids.

The problem isn't that Americans don't buy electric cars. Millions do.

The problem is that demand never followed the straight upward line many executives and government planners assumed it would.

The affluent early adopters were relatively easy to reach. The next group of buyers is much more price-sensitive and much less willing to change how they drive simply because an automaker wants to sell them something electric.

That matters enormously for Lucid because the company remains concentrated near the expensive end of the market. At some point, you saturate the group of buyers who can afford a six-figure vehicle.

That's precisely why a $40,000 or $50,000 Lucid could be transformative — if the company can survive long enough to build one.

RELATED: FIRST LOOK New York International Auto Show: Cool cars, but drivers still face sticker shock

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No second mover

Automotive executives love saying they want to "do what Tesla did."

That is much harder than it sounds.

Tesla had something no new EV company can recreate: years in which it essentially owned the premium electric car category.

The Model S arrived before almost anybody else had a credible answer. Tesla built an enormous base of customers, developed a charging network, became a cultural phenomenon, and had Elon Musk turning every product announcement into news.

Whether you love Tesla or hate it, that position cannot simply be duplicated by making another good EV.

Today's start-ups aren't entering an empty market. They're fighting Tesla, Hyundai, Kia, BMW, Mercedes-Benz, General Motors, Ford, Rivian, and an increasingly formidable group of Chinese companies around the world.

Lucid built a technically brilliant car. It didn't build it in a vacuum.

Deep pockets

Lucid does have one enormous advantage over many failed start-ups: financial backing from Saudi Arabia's Public Investment Fund.

That support has given the company a lifeline other manufacturers could only dream of.

But outside investment doesn't repeal economics.

A manufacturer eventually has to produce cars at a sustainable cost and sell enough of them at a sustainable price. Constant infusions of capital can buy time, but time has to lead somewhere.

Lucid's current plan involves cost reductions, the Gravity SUV, a future midsize platform, autonomous-vehicle partnerships, and increased manufacturing in Saudi Arabia. Reuters reported that the company still expects those initiatives to provide a path forward, despite continued losses and weaker-than-expected deliveries.

Holding the bag

Maybe they will.

I hope so, because the automotive industry is better when companies like Lucid force everybody else to improve.

But consumers should understand the risk when buying from a young automaker.

If the company disappears, the vehicle doesn't disappear with it. You still own the car. You still need replacement parts, software support, warranty work, body panels, service technicians, and somebody maintaining all those cloud-connected features.

Fisker owners already learned what happens when the company behind a highly computerized automobile suddenly isn't there anymore.

Grind behind the glamour

For years, Silicon Valley treated automobile manufacturing as though Detroit had simply failed to understand software.

Build a better battery. Hire good programmers. Raise enough venture capital. Disrupt the dinosaurs.

The reality has turned out to be far less glamorous.

Cars require factories, suppliers, repair networks, inventories, regulatory compliance, financing, parts distribution, warranty reserves, and enormous amounts of capital long before the manufacturer knows whether buyers will show up.

Lucid has already proved it can build a remarkable automobile.

Now it has to prove something harder: that it can build a viable company around it.

Think the EV mandate is over? One state has other plans.



You probably think the EV mandate is over. That's exactly what Washington wants you to believe.

Congress celebrated. The White House touted what it called one of the largest deregulatory efforts in modern history, highlighting the repeal of federal vehicle emissions rules as the centerpiece of more than $1 trillion in projected savings. Automakers began telling investors they were pivoting back toward the vehicles customers actually want. Dealers finally saw hope after years of trying to move electric vehicles that many buyers simply didn't want.

Gas-powered vehicles continued dominating large parts of the country because they remain practical, affordable, and easy to refuel.

'Not yet'

Then I started talking to people who follow automotive policy for a living.

I kept hearing the same answer: "Not yet."

The reason is California.

While Washington rolled back federal emissions rules, California's authority to set stricter vehicle emissions standards largely survived. Seventeen states and the District of Columbia now follow California's rules, representing roughly 40% of the nation's new-vehicle market. That means one state's policies can effectively shape what automakers build for the entire country.

The fight now centers on four California Clean Air Act waivers that allow the state to enforce stricter emissions standards, including requirements that automakers sell increasing numbers of electric vehicles and meet tougher tailpipe-emissions limits. The EPA sent those waivers to Congress for review under the Congressional Review Act. California immediately sued, arguing the waivers aren't subject to congressional repeal.

Congressional Republicans disagree.

California king

They're racing to overturn the waivers before the Congressional Review Act deadline expires. If they succeed, future administrations would face a much steeper legal hurdle before restoring California's authority. If they fail, the legal framework that has allowed California to shape the national auto market could remain in place for years.

To be fair, the Trump administration fundamentally changed federal auto policy. Repealing the EPA's greenhouse gas endangerment finding removed the legal foundation for nationwide greenhouse-gas regulations, marking one of the biggest deregulatory shifts in decades.

But Washington only dismantled part of the system.

Once enough states adopt California's standards, automakers face a simple business decision. They can engineer different vehicles for different parts of the country — or build to the toughest standard and sell it everywhere. Guess which option usually wins.

RELATED: California wants to decide what tires you can buy — what could possibly go wrong?

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Sunk costs

Now follow the money.

Over the last decade, automakers invested hundreds of billions of dollars preparing for an electric future regulators insisted was inevitable. Battery manufacturers expanded production. Charging companies attracted billions in public and private investment. Utilities planned for rising electricity demand. Entire business models were built around the assumption that government would continue pushing rapid electrification.

When that much money depends on one regulatory direction, nobody quietly accepts a change in course.

Businesses fight to protect their investments. Lobbyists fight to preserve the policies that created them. Investors fight to protect their returns. That's not a conspiracy. It's economics.

Consumers, however, had other ideas.

Real life over regulations

Electric vehicle sales in America never matched many of the industry's most ambitious forecasts. Hybrids surged because they offered better fuel economy without requiring people to change how they live. Gas-powered vehicles continued dominating large parts of the country because they remain practical, affordable, and easy to refuel. Dealers struggled with inventory that reflected regulatory priorities more than consumer demand, and manufacturers wrote off billions after investing ahead of the market.

None of this means electric vehicles are a bad option. Buy one if it fits your lifestyle. Buy a hybrid if that's the better option. Buy a gasoline-powered pickup if that's what your family or business needs.

That's what consumer choice looks like.

Looking back over the last decade, I don't see consumers driving this transition. I see regulations shaping investment, investment shaping production, and production shaping what buyers were offered in the showroom.

That's a very different sequence.

Washington may have dismantled the federal EV mandate. But unless Congress also closes California's regulatory back door, the pressure that reshaped the auto industry could return under a future administration.

The question isn't whether electric vehicles have a future. They do.

The question is whether consumers or regulators get to decide how quickly that future arrives.

Europe says your new car should watch you. Will America be next?



Imagine buying a brand-new car and discovering it comes with a camera pointed at your face every time you drive.

Not the road. You.

Most drivers never realized their vehicles were quietly building behavioral profiles.

As of this week, that's no longer optional across the European Union. Every new passenger car and van registered in the EU must include an interior camera as part of an Advanced Driver Distraction Warning system. The technology activates at about 12 mph, tracking your eyes, head position, and attention. If it decides you're distracted or drowsy, it issues a warning.

Officials say it's about saving lives.

Camera-ready

No one disputes that distracted driving is a serious problem. The question is whether constant driver monitoring is the only solution — or whether it creates infrastructure that could eventually be used for much more than safety.

According to the European Commission, the system is designed as a closed-loop safety feature. It analyzes driver behavior inside the vehicle and issues warnings when it detects distraction or drowsiness. Officials say it does not record video or transmit footage outside the vehicle.

The more important question is what happens next.

Once every new vehicle is required to have an interior camera, the hardware is already in place. Expanding what that hardware can do no longer requires redesigning millions of vehicles. It only requires new regulations, updated software, or new policies governing how the data can be used.

Safety regulations have added new technology to our vehicles for decades. Seat belts, airbags, anti-lock brakes, electronic stability control, backup cameras, automatic emergency braking, and forward-collision warning systems all became standard because they delivered measurable safety benefits.

An interior camera is different because it monitors the driver rather than the roadway.

Big picture

Europe may be moving first, but the United States isn't far behind. The 2021 Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act directed the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration to develop rules requiring advanced impaired-driving prevention technology in future vehicles. While NHTSA has acknowledged that passive detection systems are not yet ready for widespread deployment, in-cabin monitoring remains one of the technologies under consideration.

In other words, this conversation is already happening here.

What makes that more concerning is how much information modern vehicles already generate. Over the past several years, investigations revealed that automakers, including General Motors and Honda, shared driving behavior data — including hard braking, rapid acceleration, speeding events, and time-of-day driving patterns — with data brokers. Those brokers, in turn, supplied information used by insurance companies to help determine premiums.

Most drivers never realized their vehicles were quietly building behavioral profiles.

Now add an interior camera capable of detecting whether you've looked at your navigation screen, reached for your coffee, glanced at a child in the back seat, or appeared drowsy after a long shift.

Americans have also watched roadside surveillance expand dramatically. Modern license plate reader systems now identify far more than license plates, using AI to recognize vehicle make, model, color, distinctive features, bumper stickers, roof racks, and travel patterns. Combined with connected-car telematics and interior cameras, those systems create an increasingly detailed picture of where you go, how you drive, and what you're doing behind the wheel.

RELATED: The latest 'solution' to reckless driving could limit freedom for all of us

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Who pays?

Let's not ignore the economic incentive behind all of this surveillance.

Every mandate creates winners. Camera manufacturers gain a guaranteed market. Software companies secure long-term licensing contracts. Automakers pass compliance costs on to consumers through higher vehicle prices. And the data generated by these systems may become valuable in ways nobody can fully predict today.

Consumers pay for all of it.

They pay more for the vehicle while giving up another measure of privacy inside what has traditionally been one of the last personal spaces they control.

Highway robbery

Supporters argue these systems only issue warnings, and today that's true.

But history suggests technology rarely remains limited to its original purpose once the infrastructure exists. Software evolves and regulations change. Data that wasn't considered valuable yesterday often becomes indispensable tomorrow.

We've already watched driving data migrate from vehicles to data brokers and, in some cases, insurance companies. We've also watched roadside camera networks expand well beyond their original mission. Neither happened overnight; both expanded gradually.

Every responsible driver wants safer roads. My concern is what happens after every new vehicle comes equipped with hardware designed to watch the person behind the wheel.

For more than a century, the automobile has represented personal freedom. When driving increasingly means being observed, analyzed, and potentially scored, the relationship between drivers and their vehicles begins to change.

Europe has already decided that every new car should watch its driver. Americans should decide whether they're comfortable heading down the same road before it quietly becomes the default here as well.

Why are automakers so afraid of you fixing your own car?



When President Trump emerged from a recent meeting with automotive executives and said he found it strange that some industry leaders oppose Americans repairing their own vehicles, most coverage focused on the politics.

I was more interested in what happened afterward.

If manufacturers truly support independent repairs, why remove provisions governing the very data modern repairs increasingly depend upon?

Because the deeper you dig into the latest right-to-repair fight, the more one question keeps surfacing: Why are automakers fighting so hard to control information generated by vehicles consumers already own?

Follow the money

Follow the money, and the picture becomes much clearer.

The U.S. automotive service market generates roughly $200 billion annually. Service departments are among the industry's most reliable profit centers. As vehicles become more software-driven and connected, automakers have discovered that selling the car no longer has to end the customer relationship. Software subscriptions, connected services, maintenance plans, warranty work, and dealership repairs all create recurring revenue long after the vehicle leaves the showroom.

There's nothing wrong with companies pursuing new revenue streams. The problem begins when protecting those revenue streams limits consumer choice.

That's why the latest legislative fight deserves attention.

Stripped for parts

The debate centers on H.R. 7389, the Motor Vehicle Modernization Act of 2026. Supporters describe it as a way to modernize regulations while preserving independent repair access. On the surface, that sounds like good news for consumers.

Then something interesting happened. One of the most important parts of the broader right-to-repair debate disappeared.

Language covering telematics — the wireless vehicle data increasingly needed for diagnostics, calibrations, software updates, and repairs — was stripped from the bill before it advanced through committee. For many independent repair advocates, that wasn't a technical detail. It was the entire fight.

That raises an obvious question. If manufacturers truly support independent repairs, why remove provisions governing the very data modern repairs increasingly depend upon?

The answer may have less to do with repairs than with control. For decades, owning a vehicle meant deciding who repaired it. Consumers chose their mechanic. Independent shops competed with dealerships. Competition kept prices down and choices open.

Modern vehicles work differently.

Data-driven

Today's cars constantly generate data. They monitor component performance, transmit diagnostics, receive software updates, and communicate through manufacturer-controlled networks.

Control the data, and you gain influence over the repair process. That's why automakers, dealers, independent repair shops, aftermarket suppliers, consumer advocates, and lawmakers are all fighting over the same issue.

Manufacturers argue that unrestricted access creates cybersecurity risks. Those concerns shouldn't be dismissed. Modern vehicles are vastly more complex than the cars many of us grew up driving.

But independent repair shops aren't asking for access to nuclear launch codes. They're asking for the information needed to diagnose, repair, calibrate, and maintain vehicles consumers legally purchased. This is key in an era when more and more repairs require access to software rather than simply a wrench.

Viewed alongside other industry trends, the picture becomes even clearer. Vehicle telematics continue expanding. Subscription-based features are becoming common. Driving data has become valuable to insurers and analytics companies. Manufacturers can now change vehicle functionality through over-the-air software updates.

Each development can be defended on its own. Taken together, they suggest an industry steadily increasing its influence over vehicles long after they are sold.

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Jade Gao/Bettmann/Getty Images

Taking ownership

That's why the right-to-repair debate increasingly looks less like a repair issue and more like an ownership issue.

Farmers confronted the same problem years ago as manufacturers restricted repairs on modern agricultural equipment. Purchasing expensive machinery no longer guaranteed the ability to fix it without manufacturer involvement.

The auto industry now appears headed toward a similar crossroads.

Technology has unquestionably made vehicles better. They're safer, more efficient, and more capable than ever before. But technology also changes incentives. Every connected system creates opportunities for convenience, recurring revenue, data collection, and greater manufacturer control.

What makes H.R. 7389 so important isn't what remains in the bill — it's what was removed. The fight over telematics reveals where this debate is headed next.

The future isn't really about brake pads or oil changes. It's about who controls vehicle data, who profits from it, and ultimately who decides what owners are allowed to do with products they have already purchased.

The fix is in

For more than a century, vehicle ownership had a simple meaning. You bought the car. You decided who repaired it, how long you kept it, and what modifications you made.

Today, that definition is becoming less clear. The question isn't whether modern vehicles should be secure. Of course they should. The question isn't whether repairs have become more complicated. They have.

The real question is whether ownership still means what consumers think it means. Because if automakers are willing to fight this hard over repair data today, consumers should pay close attention to what comes next.

The right-to-repair battle may ultimately be remembered as the moment Americans discovered that ownership in the connected-car era no longer carries the assumptions previous generations took for granted.

The latest 'solution' to reckless driving could limit freedom for all of us



If a driver is so dangerous that the government needs to electronically control his car, why is he still allowed to drive?

That's the question New York lawmakers don't seem interested in answering.

Today the threshold is 16 violations. Tomorrow it could be 10.

Gov. Kathy Hochul (D) recently signed legislation requiring certain repeat speeding offenders to install GPS-based speed-limiting technology in their vehicles. Under the new law, drivers who rack up 16 or more speed-camera violations within a year can be ordered to install an Intelligent Speed Limiter that prevents their vehicle from exceeding posted speed limits. Drivers who refuse can ultimately lose their vehicle registration.

Reckless legislation

At first glance, the proposal sounds reasonable. Most Americans agree that chronic reckless drivers should face serious consequences. But the real question is not whether dangerous drivers deserve punishment. The real question is why someone with 16 speeding violations still has driving privileges in the first place.

New York already has speeding laws. It already has fines, insurance penalties, license points, court appearances, and suspension mechanisms. If a driver has accumulated enough violations to be considered such a serious threat that the state now wants to electronically control their vehicle, then why weren't existing laws sufficient to remove that driver from the road?

That question goes directly to the heart of the issue. Rather than addressing the apparent failure of existing enforcement systems, lawmakers have chosen to create an entirely new layer of technology, surveillance, and government oversight. Instead of asking why repeat offenders remain licensed, they're asking the public to accept the idea that government should have a greater role in controlling privately owned vehicles.

That's a significant shift, and it deserves far more scrutiny than it has received.

Pre-crime preview

The legislation relies on Intelligent Speed Assistance technology, commonly referred to as ISA. The system uses GPS data and digital mapping to determine the posted speed limit on a roadway and can prevent a vehicle from exceeding that speed. Unlike traditional enforcement, where a driver is punished after breaking the law, this technology is designed to intervene before the driver can make the decision.

The automotive industry is already moving toward an unprecedented level of connectivity. Modern vehicles collect enormous amounts of information. They receive over-the-air software updates, communicate with manufacturers, monitor driving behavior, and increasingly operate as rolling computers. Consumers have already watched vehicle ownership evolve into something that looks increasingly like a subscription service, with features activated remotely and software determining how products function.

Now government is entering the equation with technology designed to control how a vehicle operates.

That should concern anyone who values personal privacy and consumer rights.

Starting small

Supporters insist the law applies only to a small group of repeat offenders. That's true today. The problem is that government programs rarely remain confined to their original scope. Nearly every major regulatory program begins with a narrowly defined target. Politicians identify a group that few people are willing to defend, implement a new policy, and assure the public that the measure will be limited. Once the infrastructure exists, however, expanding it becomes significantly easier than creating it.

Today the threshold is 16 violations. Tomorrow it could be 10. Later it could be expanded to fleet vehicles, commercial operators, or other categories of drivers. Once the principle is accepted, the debate shifts from whether government should have this authority to how broadly it should be applied.

Imperfect technology

The practical questions surrounding this law are equally troubling. GPS technology is useful, but it is not infallible. Speed-limit databases are not always current. Construction zones change. Temporary restrictions appear. Road conditions evolve faster than mapping systems can update.

What happens when the speed-limit database is wrong? What happens when a roadway has recently changed and the system hasn't been updated? What happens when a driver needs rapid acceleration to avoid an accident?

These are not hypothetical concerns. They are the types of real-world situations automotive engineers consider every day. Yet lawmakers frequently discuss speed-limiting technology as though vehicles operate in a controlled environment where every situation can be anticipated by software. The reality is far more complicated.

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Jeff Greenberg/Getty Images

Punishing cars, not drivers

Then there is the issue of fairness.

One of the most overlooked aspects of this legislation is its reliance on camera enforcement. Traditional traffic stops identify the driver. Automated camera systems identify the vehicle. Those are not the same thing. Families share cars. Businesses operate fleets. Vehicles are borrowed, rented, and loaned every day. Yet policymakers continue to build enforcement systems around the vehicle itself rather than the individual behind the wheel.

That distinction matters because accountability should be directed at the person responsible for the behavior, not simply the machine involved.

There is also a financial component that deserves attention. Installation costs for these systems can run into the thousands of dollars, with additional fees for monitoring, maintenance, administration, and compliance. Government officials often frame these costs as penalties for offenders, but every new regulatory program creates opportunities for vendors, contractors, software providers, installers, and administrators.

Whenever government mandates a new technology, there is almost always an industry waiting to benefit from it.

New York is hardly alone in pursuing this approach. Washington State has adopted its own Intelligent Speed Assistance requirements for certain offenders. Virginia and Washington, D.C., have moved in a similar direction, while Illinois lawmakers have advanced proposals involving mandatory speed-limiting technology. What once appeared to be an isolated experiment is rapidly becoming a national trend.

As more states adopt similar programs, lawmakers should answer a basic question: Why create a technological workaround instead of enforcing the penalties already available under existing law?

Accountability ... or control?

The answer may be uncomfortable. Suspending licenses removes the driver from the system. Technological monitoring keeps the driver in the system while creating new layers of oversight and control. One approach focuses on accountability. The other focuses on management.

Those are fundamentally different philosophies.

New York's "super speeder" law is being sold as a narrowly targeted safety measure. Maybe that's how it begins. The larger concern is where it ends. Once government gains the authority to electronically regulate how privately owned vehicles operate, future expansions become much easier to justify.

The most important question isn't whether a driver with 16 violations deserves punishment. It's whether Americans are comfortable creating the technological infrastructure that allows government to control how a privately owned vehicle operates.

Today, lawmakers call it a solution for super speeders. Tomorrow, it could become something much broader.

America's salvage yards are on fire — and drivers are the ones getting burned



No matter what kind of car we prefer, most American drivers can agree on one thing: We don't need another reason for vehicle ownership to become more expensive.

New vehicle prices remain painfully high. Used cars still cost more than they did just a few years ago. Insurance premiums continue to climb, and repair bills that once seemed unthinkable have become routine. For many families, keeping an older vehicle on the road isn't a preference anymore — it's a financial necessity.

An insurer may choose to repair rather than total a vehicle because recycled components make the economics work.

That's why a little-noticed trend deserves far more attention than it's getting: America's salvage yards are burning.

Junk science

Most drivers never set foot in a salvage yard, but many have unknowingly benefited from one. Salvage yards provide recycled engines, transmissions, body panels, mirrors, wheels, electronic modules, and countless other components that offer affordable alternatives to buying new parts.

Without them, many repairs would cost significantly more.

That matters because modern vehicles have become dramatically more expensive to fix. A headlight is no longer just a bulb and a lens — it may include LED arrays, cameras, and sensors costing thousands of dollars to replace. Bumpers house radar systems. Side mirrors contain blind-spot monitoring equipment. Even relatively minor collisions can generate repair bills that shock vehicle owners.

For decades, the salvage industry has quietly helped offset those costs.

Most people think of a scrapyard as the final resting place for totaled vehicles. In reality, these facilities function as warehouses of reusable inventory. Every wrecked vehicle contains components that can help repair another one, extending the life of cars already on the road and giving consumers lower-cost alternatives to factory-new parts.

When a salvage yard loses thousands of vehicles and reusable components to a fire, the consequences extend far beyond the property itself. Repair shops lose inventory. Insurers lose salvage value. Consumers lose affordable options.

Eventually, those costs work their way through the system.

More expensive repairs contribute to higher insurance claims. Parts shortages can increase repair times and rental-car costs. And families trying to keep an aging vehicle running are left with fewer choices and bigger bills.

That's why these fires deserve more scrutiny than they typically receive.

Batteries included

Industry groups have reported a growing number of fires at recycling facilities in recent years, with lithium-ion batteries frequently cited as a contributing factor. Given the proliferation of batteries in electric vehicles, hybrids, e-bikes, power tools, and consumer electronics, those concerns are understandable. Damaged or improperly handled lithium-ion batteries can ignite and burn intensely.

But determining the actual cause of individual fires matters. Some incidents are quickly linked to batteries, while others remain under investigation or are ultimately attributed to different causes. Before broad conclusions are drawn, it's important that investigators establish the facts.

The larger issue is that automotive recyclers have become an increasingly important part of keeping transportation affordable.

Americans are holding onto their vehicles longer than ever because replacing them has become so expensive. That makes access to quality recycled parts more valuable than ever. A driver with a 12-year-old SUV may not need a brand-new factory transmission if a properly inspected recycled unit is available at a fraction of the cost. Likewise, an insurer may choose to repair rather than total a vehicle because recycled components make the economics work.

Remove enough inventory from the marketplace, and those calculations begin to change.

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Mark Sullivan/Getty Images

Free to fix

This also intersects with the broader right-to-repair movement. Much of that debate centers on software access and diagnostic tools, but those issues address only part of the problem. Consumers also need access to reasonably priced replacement parts. Salvage yards provide competition in the marketplace and help prevent repair costs from becoming even more prohibitive.

Independent repair shops understand this better than anyone. Their ability to source quality recycled components often allows them to save customers thousands of dollars compared with using factory-new parts. If those options disappear, many repairs simply stop making financial sense.

The result is simple: Consumers either pay more or replace vehicles they otherwise could have kept on the road.

Insurance companies face similar challenges. Every totaled vehicle contains recoverable value through parts recycling and salvage sales. When that inventory is destroyed before it can be reused, that value disappears as well.

Where there's fire ...

Viewed in isolation, a scrapyard fire is local news. Viewed as part of a broader pattern, it becomes a warning about the fragile supply chain that keeps older vehicles on the road.

As vehicles become more technologically sophisticated and more expensive to repair, the automotive recycling industry becomes more — not less — important. Yet most people only notice it when dramatic images of smoke and flames appear on the evening news.

The next time headlines report another salvage-yard fire, look beyond the blaze itself. Ask what inventory was lost, how many future repairs depended on those parts, and what replacing them will ultimately cost.

Because in the automotive world, expenses rarely disappear. They get passed along.

And in the end, the people most likely to pay are the ones who can least afford another hit to their household budget: ordinary American drivers just trying to get a few more years out of their vehicles.

Against auto tariffs for China? So was Europe ... and it's not going well



On a recent episode of "The Drive," my co-host Karl Brauer and I discussed one of the most contentious issues in the automotive industry today: tariffs.

It's one of those topics everybody seems to have an opinion about.

President Trump's tariff strategy is ultimately aimed at creating incentives for companies to build products in the United States rather than elsewhere.

For many people in the anti-tariff camp, the argument against them is straightforward. Tariffs raise prices, distort markets, and protect industries that should simply learn to compete. In the automotive world, the response is often some version of: "American automakers need to compete with China."

To which Karl offered a simple response: Europe tried that.

Closing time

The results haven't been encouraging, to say the least.

Over the past several years, Chinese automakers have rapidly expanded across Europe, capturing market share with aggressively priced vehicles while many traditional European manufacturers struggle to keep up. Volkswagen recently announced plans to close a plant in Germany for the first time in the company's 88-year history.

Other major automakers have announced layoffs, restructuring efforts, and production cuts as competition intensifies.

Every time someone argues that tariffs are unnecessary because domestic manufacturers should simply compete with Chinese imports on an open playing field, it's worth looking across the Atlantic and asking a simple question:

How is that working out for Europe?

The answer is complicated, but it's difficult to ignore the warning signs.

Manufacturing matters

Supporters of tariffs aren't simply arguing for higher prices or protectionism for its own sake. They're arguing that manufacturing matters. Jobs matter. Industrial capacity matters. And once those things disappear, they're not easily rebuilt.

That's especially true in the automotive industry, where factories support entire ecosystems of suppliers, contractors, transportation networks, and skilled workers.

We're already seeing evidence of what domestic investment can accomplish here in the United States.

Hyundai's growing manufacturing presence in Georgia has become one of the most significant automotive investments in the country. Combined with suppliers and battery production facilities, the project is expected to support thousands of jobs. For many workers in the region, those positions represent opportunities that simply didn't exist before.

The same pattern is playing out across the South. Automakers including Kia, Mercedes-Benz, Volkswagen, Nissan, Ford, General Motors, and others continue expanding their U.S. production footprints.

These projects don't just create assembly jobs. They support entire communities, generating opportunities for local businesses, contractors, suppliers, and workers throughout the region.

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Jeff Greenberg/Getty Images

Price check

Critics often warn that tariffs will dramatically increase vehicle prices. The reality is more nuanced.

Modern vehicles are assembled from components sourced around the world. The impact of tariffs depends on where those components are produced, where final assembly takes place, and how manufacturers choose to absorb or pass along those costs.

For many mainstream vehicles, the effect may be relatively modest. Luxury brands such as Ferrari, Lamborghini, Aston Martin, Rolls-Royce, and Porsche face a different situation because they are unlikely to move production to the United States.

But let's be honest: Buyers spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on an exotic sports car aren't facing the same concerns as a family shopping for a Honda Accord, Toyota Camry, or Ford Explorer.

The larger question is whether America wants to maintain a strong manufacturing base.

President Trump's tariff strategy is ultimately aimed at creating incentives for companies to build products in the United States rather than elsewhere. Whether you support that approach or not, the objective is clear: encourage investment, create jobs, and strengthen domestic production.

Data breach

There's another factor that rarely receives enough attention in these discussions: data security.

Modern vehicles collect enormous amounts of information, including location data, driving habits, communications, and vehicle performance metrics. As Chinese automakers continue expanding globally, policymakers have increasingly raised concerns about who controls that data and where it ultimately ends up.

Whether those concerns prove justified or not, they are becoming part of the broader conversation surrounding automotive trade policy.

Tariffs aren't a magic solution. They won't instantly rebuild America's industrial base or solve every challenge facing the auto industry.

But the debate shouldn't be reduced to whether tariffs might add a few hundred dollars to the price of a vehicle.

The bigger question is what happens when domestic manufacturers lose market share, close factories, eliminate jobs, and become increasingly dependent on foreign competitors.

Before America dismisses tariffs as outdated or unnecessary, it may be worth paying close attention to the experience of those countries who've already made that bet.