Jehovah's Witnesses: Worshipping with the most hated denomination



After attending a somewhat run-of-the-mill novus ordo Mass with only a few redeeming qualities, my husband and I decided to visit another church in Nevada that is possibly one of the most hated and misunderstood Christian denominations — even with the Latter-day Saints and Seventh-day Adventists.

It was both his and my first time attending a Jehovah’s Witness church.

'I personally don’t want to go to heaven, but want to remain on Earth when we’re resurrected. I want to live among the animals and trees and plants and not rule over others.'

We walked 40-some minutes to the Kingdom Hall of Jehovah’s Witnesses and were greeted warmly, even though we were two minutes late and the congregation had already begun singing the first hymn. The setting might have been bland, but I felt I had achieved a bucket-list goal.

For years I’d tried to visit a Kingdom Hall. The Jehovah's Witnesses were one of the last churches to reopen nationwide after COVID, offering online meetings for nearly two and a half years, until summer of 2022. Even after that, many remained closed for another year, and a large portion still host hybrid Zoom/in-person gatherings for the immune-compromised.

Kingdom Hall

To many, the inside of the meeting hall would appear no different from a conservative Protestant church. Most women wore skirts or business suits; the men were in full suits. The carpet was gray, the walls plain, decorated with a few pictures of flowers. There were no windows.

Rows of theater chairs faced a pulpit. Though the Jehovah's Witnesses do not have ordained ministers, any baptized man may teach from Scripture. On the day we visited, a guest speaker from Idaho — tailored suit, bright red tie — delivered a sermon much like any Protestant pastor’s, citing extensive Bible verses to support his points. There was no American flag, unsurprising given JW pacifism. Jehovah's Witnesses do not vote, and while they don’t forbid self-defense, they register as conscientious objectors during drafts. They believe that those who live by the sword will die by the sword (Matthew 26:52).

RELATED: Church-hopping: Confessions of an itinerant worshipper

Keturah Hickman

The sermon

The message, titled “Is There in Fact a True Religion from God’s Standpoint?” began with statistics: 85% of the world identifies as religious, 31% Christian, across 45,000 denominations — with a new one forming every 2.2 days. “But how does Jehovah want to be worshipped?” he asked.

He read from Mark 7:6-7 and James 1:26, then cited Solomon: True religion is to fear God and keep His commandments (Ecclesiastes 12:13). More verses followed — Isaiah 48:17-18, Micah 6:8, Matthew 7:16 — arguing that true belief and conduct must fit like a well-tailored suit, not mismatched pieces.

He condemned most Christian denominations for justifying slavery so that men might Christianize pagan souls for the kingdom of God. He pointed out that the Jehovah’s Witnesses never supported such horrid beliefs. (He failed to mention that slavery was already abolished by the time they came along.) He warned against fatalism, ancestor worship, and faith in human institutions. “If a religion permits or promotes practices the Bible condemns, it is not true,” he said, citing Colossians 3:10, John 8:32, James 3:17-18, and others.

“Truth is found in the word of God,” he concluded. “When we love the word, we are peaceable.”

The sermon ended with the JW hymn “My Father, My God and Friend (Hebrews 6:10)."

All along the Watchtower

After the hymn, an elder read from "The Watchtower," the denomination’s monthly study magazine. Before the group was called Jehovah’s Witnesses, it was the Watch Tower Society, founded by Charles Taze Russell in 1881.

The article that day was “Jehovah Heals the Brokenhearted” (Psalm 147:3). The elder read each paragraph aloud, then passed the microphone for congregants — men and women, in person or on Zoom — to share reflections.

Here are some highlights.

  • Satan wants us to wallow in our feelings. Jehovah wants us to defy Satan and serve Him. When we do that, He sees us and is moved to help us.
  • Jehovah doesn’t keep track of our sins, but only of the good we do.
  • Jehovah does not put a time limit on our prayers as if it were a therapy session. We can pray to Him for as long as we like, and He’ll keep listening.
  • The Son’s sacrifice forgives our past sins so we can move ahead into the future.
  • We can comfort each other by being gentle and genuine.
  • We are not to blame for how others hurt us.

It was repetitive but sincere — an hour-long group meditation on comfort and resilience.

The service ended with another hymn. There was no tithe, and communion is held only once a year for those who believe they are among the 144,000 destined for heaven.

The congregants

Afterward, several congregants welcomed us. One woman, Linda, about 70, explained that she had converted from Protestantism before marrying.

“There aren’t many differences between us and other churches,” she said, “except that we don’t teach what other places teach.”

“Such as?”

“We teach that Jehovah is Almighty God and that Jesus is His son and our Messiah. And we don’t believe in hellfire,” she said. “You can’t really find that idea in the Bible.”

I asked her if that meant that she believes everyone goes to heaven or if they just die.

She said, “The Bible says 144,000 go to heaven to be kings and priests to be the government of the kingdom of heaven that will come to Earth. I personally don’t want to go to heaven, but want to remain on Earth when we’re resurrected. I want to live among the animals and trees and plants and not rule over others.”

Linda gave me a small Bible — I gladly accepted it because it was lightweight and would fit perfectly into my backpack, and until now I had only been able to carry a New Testament. She explained to me that the Jehovah's Witnesses didn’t approve of many of Scofield’s notes in the KJV and that their version had more accurate cross-references. I love having various versions of the Bible to read through, so there was no complaint from me!

She invited us to join her husband and friends at a cafe for a late lunch. And so we went with about 20 other congregants. I sat by a woman just a little older than I. Ozzy had been raised in the Jehovah's Witnesses and had spent much of her youth as a traveling nanny. She told me that nearly six years ago she had married a Grace Baptist Church man and had a daughter with him. They eventually divorced. “I’m just grateful my daughter is learning about God in both homes she’s raised in," she said.

Although Ozzy did not speak ill of her ex-husband, it was clear that she thought her expression of faith was more valid than his. So I asked her what was different between the two theologies, in her opinion.

“That’s a good question," Ozzy said. "Not much."

Then she added:

Except how we define the Trinity — you know, you can’t find that word in the Bible. I’ve searched every translation of the Bible, so I know. We both believe in the concept, though JW is more literal and bases their definition on how the Bible describes it. We believe that the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are three separate entities united by a common will. Grace Bible Church is more Catholic when they talk about the Trinity.

After a day with them, I found them sincere and Bible-focused, hardly cult-like. They loved God, quoted Scripture freely, and treated us with warmth — even when I somewhat aggressively asked about one of their more infamous beliefs.

“I have heard that your church does not allow people to get blood transfusions and that this has caused many people to die.”

"Yes, we believe blood is sacred and not to be spilled in war nor ingested for any reason," Linda responded. "But blood can be divided into four components, and it is okay to receive any of those minor fractions.

"Most people don’t even need blood transfusions as much as they used to," she added, noting that "scientists have discovered that there are healthier ways to fill a low blood count with supplements and iron.”

Are the Witnesses a cult?

I’m not sure what makes a group a cult any more. Some say it’s when people follow a man rather than the Bible — but the Jehovah's Witnesses have no central figure. They encourage personal Bible study.

Interestingly, 65% of members are converts — adults who join by conviction, not birth. While many leave, those who stay do so deliberately. Angry ex-members exist in every religion, and that alone doesn’t define a cult.

Much of JW doctrine is nothing your average Protestant would quarrel with: anti-abortion but pro-birth-control, personal responsibility for family size, and no institutional oversight (beyond guidance from JW Broadcasting in New York). There’s also no enforcement mechanism for rules on blood transfusions or holidays.

There are 8.6 million Jehovah’s Witnesses worldwide, compared to 15.7 million Jews, 17 million Mormons, and 22 million Seventh-day Adventists. Many Protestants single out the denomination's rejection of transfusions, but the Jehovah's Witnesses are neither faith healers nor anti-medicine. They are pacifists but politically moderate and scientifically literate.

Charles Taze Russell

Jehovah's Witnesses founder Charles Taze Russell was raised Presbyterian. At age 13 he left his church to embark upon a kind of quest for the truth, for a time backsliding into unbelief.

Known for writing Bible verse on fences as a way to evangelize, he founded a group called the Bible Student Movement in 1879. Much like Mormons, the Two by Twos, and the Jim Roberts Group, his group grew by sending out pairs of men to preach the word of God directly from the Bible.

Despite Russell's zeal, his life was riddled with scandal. He divorced his wife after she demanded a larger editorial influence on "The Watch Tower." He sued for libel often, occasionally winning — one time the jury mockingly ruled in his favor but gave him only one dollar, and so he filed an appeal and received $15,000.

After wrongly predicting the end of the world numerous times, Russell died in 1931. The group split apart. Approximately a quarter of the members remained faithful to Russell’s successors and began calling themselves Jehovah’s Witnesses.

Their use of the name “Jehovah” also irritates critics, though it appears in the King James Bible (Exodus 6:3; Psalm 83:18; Isaiah 12:2; 26:4).

Their rejection of the Nicene Trinity remains the sharpest point of division — a doctrine codified by the Catholic Church and later adopted by nearly all of Protestantism. It’s an irony of history: Protestants who define themselves against Rome still use Rome’s creed as the boundary of belief. Disagreement with that doctrine, however, does not make a faith a cult.

The trend to schism

One striking point from the sermon stayed with me: Every 2.2 days a new denomination is created.

Until the 16th century, Christianity had only a handful of branches. Now there are 45,000. The JW speaker said it is because everyone seeks truth; I think it’s because we’ve forgotten love.

As Paul wrote in 1 Corinthians 13: “If I have all faith so as to move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing.”

What merit is truth without love? God does not honor self-righteous division. This, perhaps, was Martin Luther’s and Henry VIII’s greatest sin — their pride tore Christ’s body into pieces.

Protestants readily maintain friendly regard for Judaism, which does not accept Christ’s divinity, while showing far less tolerance for groups such as Jehovah’s Witnesses, Mormons, or Adventists — who profess Jesus as Lord and Redeemer.

For this reason, I urge believers: Visit all churches. Seek unity where possible. Not to follow fads, but to love the whole body of Christ — even the Jehovah’s Witnesses.

Do you really have ADHD — or do they want to medicate you into conformity?



Everybody has a diagnosis these days.

Not just adults — kids too. It doesn’t matter if you're 8 or 38, there's someone somewhere waiting to explain away whatever's different about you.

Perhaps you find your work excruciatingly boring and hard to care about precisely because it is excruciatingly boring and hard to care about.

It's not a quirk of your personality or a flaw in your character or a wound in your soul. It's a illness. Never mind that the symptoms are vague or the evidence that it's a discrete medical condition are lacking — a pharmaceutical cure will fix it.

Just pop this pill, and you will be like everyone else. Isn’t that what you want?

All the rage

All the kids these days have ADHD or autism. Which often makes me wonder if any of them do. Or if these conditions exist at all.

Autism certainly seems real in its extreme forms, but I am not at all convinced that it's at the far end of a continuum. I don’t really think being a little “on the spectrum” is a thing. Those people are just a little weird and need stronger guidance on how to get on in life.

I have a friend who was an engineer at Google. He told me half the people he worked with claimed to be “on the spectrum,” and according to him, it was all bull. They didn’t have medical problems; they had personal problems. They were guys who never learned how to interact normally, so they just ended up being kind of weird and rude.

As for ADHD, it's so obscenely overdiagnosed that it's essentially fake at this point. The market has been so oversaturated by ridiculous and erroneous diagnoses that whenever I hear about another kid with ADHD, it tells me more about the doctors and the “system” and less about the kid.

Boys will be boys

Are some kids better at sitting down at a desk for three hours at a time? Sure. Are more girls than boys better at doing it? Yes. Is there a gender factor here when it comes to diagnosis? Absolutely.

Boys don’t learn the same way girls do. But much of modern education ignores this fact. So when boys fidget or get bored, it gets chalked up to ADHD. This is more or less common knowledge by now. So the only thing a boy being diagnosed with ADHD tells me is that he doesn't get enough recess.

Of course, there are extreme cases. There are kids who genuinely don’t seem to be able to focus at all. Something like actual ADHD exists in a small number of boys, but that doesn't negate the broader truth: Instead of seeing people as individuals with different strengths and weaknesses, we decide to overmedicate when someone isn’t exactly like everyone else.

My mom worked with special ed kids. Some of them had mild disabilities, some more extreme. In some cases, it was clear they would need supervised care their entire lives. But in other cases, it wasn't clear just what, if anything, was wrong — besides a certain learned helplessness reinforced by doctors and parents.

Pill and chill

Nowadays ADHD diagnoses aren’t just for kids; adults are getting in on it too. Believe it or not, an increasing amount of men and women, especially women, in their 30s and 40s are discovering that they too have ADHD — a discovery that inevitably “explains everything.” My wife sees reels on Instagram all the time, along with ads selling various solutions.

What's that? You couldn’t focus at your computer, clicking on an excel spreadsheet, sending pointless emails for seven hours at a time? Shocking. No, you don’t need ADHD medication. You need to do something else with your life. Perhaps you find your work excruciatingly boring and hard to care about precisely because it is excruciatingly boring and hard to care about.

Overmedicalization and overdiagnosis is a deep problem in our society. Not just because the result is an increase in prescription drug use, but because the individual human being is lost or suffocated a little bit at a time. Everyone is different. Everyone has skills, and everyone has weaknesses. Everyone learns in a different way, and everyone focuses on different things too.

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Free agency

Some people are just a little awkward, a little weird, a little absent-minded, or a little dry. Sure, they should try to meet society halfway in some reasonable sense — but that happens through early teaching, parental guidance, community expectations, and personal effort, not through a pill you pop every day. For most of the 20th century, we relied far more on those nonmedical supports.

All the pill-popping flattens our individualism and undercuts our own agency as humans. It presupposes that one cannot make oneself better, one cannot work to act right, and that one doesn’t have any control. This is a lie. Yes, of course, there are people who suffer with truly debilitating problems who need medication, and they should get that medication. But it is a small fraction of the population. Most people can make themselves better when they set their minds to it.

Don’t get me wrong. I'm not anti-psychiatry. I'm not into alternative medicine or any of the hippie stuff. I’m not denying that there are people with problems who are helped most effectively with medication. I’m thankful for the blessings of modern medicine and the advancements we continue to see every year.

But we have a problem with overdiagnosis in our country. We have a problem with losing sight of the individual. We have a problem with people who want to give up their agency and turn it all over to a pill, and we are worse off because of it.

Diesel under attack: EPA targets engines that power America



America runs on diesel. From freight haulers and farm equipment to fire trucks and snowplows, diesel engines are the torque behind our economy.

Yet the same engines that built the nation’s backbone are now in Washington’s crosshairs — strangled by layers of federal regulation that threaten the people who keep America moving.

Fire departments, ambulance services, and municipal snowplows all run on diesel. If their vehicles can’t move, lives are at risk.

The Environmental Protection Agency insists it’s cleaning the air. But for those who live and work beyond the Beltway, these mandates aren’t saving the planet — they’re shutting down livelihoods.

Cost of clean

Since 2010, every diesel engine sold in the U.S. has come fitted with diesel particulate filters and selective catalytic reduction systems — components meant to capture soot and neutralize nitrogen oxides. In theory, they’re good for the environment. In practice, they’re crippling the very trucks that keep shelves stocked and first responders rolling.

DPFs clog, SCR units freeze, and when that happens, engines “derate” into limp mode — losing power until the system is fixed. A single failure can leave a truck stranded for days and cost upwards of $5,000 to repair. For independent owner-operators, who haul 70% of the nation’s freight, that can mean the difference between survival and bankruptcy.

Even worse, under the Clean Air Act, simply repairing or modifying those failing systems can make a mechanic a federal felon.

Tamper tantrum

Meet Troy Lake, a 65-year-old diesel expert from Cheyenne, Wyoming. For decades, Lake kept his community’s fleets running — farm trucks, snowplows, ambulances, and school buses. But when emissions systems began failing in subzero temperatures, Lake found himself forced to choose between obeying Washington’s regulations or keeping critical vehicles on the road.

His fix? Remove the faulty components and reprogram the engine to restore performance — a commonsense solution that kept essential services moving. But the EPA saw it differently. Under federal law, “tampering” with emissions controls carries up to five years in prison and $250,000 in fines per vehicle.

In June 2024, Lake pleaded guilty to one count of emissions tampering. By December, a federal judge sentenced him to a year in prison. His shop was fined $52,500 and shut down. Ironically, during his sentence, Lake worked on the prison’s own diesel equipment — the same skills that, outside those walls, had made him a criminal.

Now home but barred from his trade, Lake carries a felony record that cost him his business, his rights, and his reputation — all for keeping his community’s engines running.

Endless repair cycles

No one disputes that diesel exhaust can harm air quality. The EPA’s emission rules dramatically cut pollution over the past decade. But these results have come at an unsustainable cost to the people who depend on diesel most.

According to the American Trucking Associations, emissions-related repairs account for roughly 13% of total maintenance costs for Class 8 trucks. Each incident costs an average of $1,500 and countless hours of downtime. Multiply that across millions of trucks, and the burden on small businesses and rural economies is staggering.

Farmers, truckers, and local governments can’t afford the endless repair cycles. For them, Washington’s mandates translate to fewer working trucks, higher consumer costs, and dangerous response delays in emergencies.

Senator Lummis fights back

Wyoming Senator Cynthia Lummis (R) sees what’s happening. She’s watched the federal government criminalize working Americans while ignoring the real-world consequences of its rules. In October 2025, she introduced the Diesel Truck Liberation Act — legislation designed to restore sanity and balance.

The bill would:

  • Remove mandatory federal requirements for DPFs, SCRs, and onboard diagnostics;
  • Limit the EPA’s enforcement powers over diesel tuning and emissions deletes;
  • Protect mechanics and operators from prosecution for performing practical repairs; and
  • Provide retroactive relief — vacating sentences, clearing records, and refunding fines for past convictions.

A call for flexibility

Environmental advocates warn that such legislation could reverse decades of progress under the Clean Air Act.

That’s a legitimate concern. Clean air matters. But it’s also true that today’s engine tuning and filtration technologies are far more advanced than those available when these mandates were written. Recent research shows that advanced, model-based engine controls and “virtual sensors” can significantly cut nitrogen oxide and particulate emissions and help engines stay within strict tailpipe limits while reducing dependence on extra physical sensors and minimizing urea and fuel penalties.

Even current EPA leadership has acknowledged the need for flexibility and modernization. The question isn’t whether we should protect the environment — it’s whether rigid, outdated enforcement is the best way to do it.

And the impact doesn’t stop at the loading dock. Fire departments, ambulance services, and municipal snowplows all run on diesel. If their vehicles can’t move, lives are at risk. A snowstorm doesn’t care about EPA compliance, and neither does a heart attack.

Who makes the rules?

Opponents of the Diesel Truck Liberation Act argue that removing emissions hardware would increase pollution, disproportionately harming urban and low-income communities. Supporters counter that Washington’s policies have already created economic inequality by crushing rural economies and small operators.

The divide isn’t really about clean air — it’s about who gets to make the rules. Should unelected bureaucrats in D.C. dictate how a farmer in Wyoming runs his truck? Or should local communities have the flexibility to balance environmental goals with economic reality?

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Image via @MusicScarf/X (screenshot)/Photographer: Emily Elconin/Bloomberg via Getty Images

Common sense prevails

The Diesel Truck Liberation Act doesn’t aim to destroy the Clean Air Act. It aims to reform it. It recognizes that environmental protection must work hand in hand with reliability, safety, and economic survival.

For people like Troy Lake, it’s about justice — not just for one man, but for thousands of mechanics and operators who’ve been punished for solving real problems in real America.

And there’s already a hopeful sign: President Trump recently issued a full pardon for Lake, acknowledging that enforcing broken regulations against hardworking Americans is not justice — it’s overreach.

The next step is whether Congress will follow through. The bill currently sits in the Senate Environment Committee, with hearings expected later this year. If it passes, it could set a precedent for rethinking how environmental policy is enforced — and how to protect the people who keep America running.

America’s diesel fleet isn’t the enemy. It’s the engine that powers our nation — from coast to coast, farm to factory, and every highway in between. Reasonable environmental goals are achievable, but not through criminalizing those who fix the equipment that keeps this country alive.

The question facing lawmakers is simple: Will they choose common sense — or continue punishing the very people who make modern life possible?

Elon Musk to reveal flying car next year



Elon Musk says the next Tesla Roadster might fly. Not figuratively — literally.

Imagine an all-electric supercar that hits 60 mph in under two seconds, then lifts off the pavement like something out of "The Jetsons." It sounds impossible, even absurd. But during a recent appearance on "The Joe Rogan Experience," Musk hinted that the long-delayed Tesla Roadster is about to do the unthinkable: merge supercar speed with vertical takeoff.

If the April 2026 demo delivers even a glimpse of flight, it will cement Tesla’s image as the company that still dares to dream big.

As someone who has test-driven nearly every kind of machine on four (and sometimes fewer) wheels, I’ve seen hype before. But this time, it’s not just marketing spin. Tesla is preparing a prototype demo that could change how we think about personal transportation — or prove that even Elon Musk can aim too high.

Rogan reveal

On Halloween, Musk told Joe Rogan that Tesla is “getting close to demonstrating the prototype,” adding with his usual flair: “One thing I can guarantee is that this product demo will be unforgettable.”

Rogan, always the skeptic, pushed for details. Wings? Hovering? Musk smirked: “I can’t do the unveil before the unveil. But I think it has a shot at being the most memorable product unveil ever.”

He even invoked his friend and PayPal co-founder Peter Thiel, who once said, "We wanted flying cars; instead we got 140 characters."

Musk’s response: “I think if Peter wants a flying car, he should be able to buy one.”

That’s classic Elon — part visionary, part showman. But underneath the bravado lies serious engineering. Musk hinted at SpaceX technology powering the car.

The demonstration, now scheduled for April 1, 2026 (yes, April Fools’ Day), is meant to prove the impossible. Production could start by 2027 or 2028, but given Tesla’s history of optimistic timelines, it may be longer before any of us see a flying Roadster on the road — or in the air.

Good timing

Tesla’s timing isn’t accidental. The company’s Q3 2025 profits fell short due to tariffs, R&D spending, and the loss of federal EV tax credits. With electric vehicle demand cooling, Musk knows how to recapture attention: promise something audacious.

Remember the Cybertruck’s “unbreakable” windows? The demo didn’t go as planned — but it worked as a publicity move. A flying Tesla Roadster could do the same, turning investor eyes (and wallets) back toward Tesla’s most thrilling frontier.

Hovering hype

So can a Tesla actually fly? It may use cold-gas thrusters — essentially small rocket nozzles that expel compressed air for brief, powerful thrusts. The result could be hovering, extreme acceleration, or even short hops over obstacles.

There’s also talk of “fan car” technology, inspired by 1970s race cars that used vacuum fans to suck the car to the track for impossible cornering speeds. Combine that with Tesla’s AI-driven Full Self-Driving systems and new battery packs designed for over 600 miles of range, and the idea starts to sound just plausible enough.

The challenge? Energy density. Vertical flight consumes enormous power, and even Tesla’s advanced 4680 cells may struggle to deliver it without sacrificing range. And if the Roadster truly hovers, it will need reinforced suspension, stability controls, and noise-dampening tech to keep your driveway from turning into a launchpad.

Sky's the limit

Musk isn’t the first to chase this dream. The “flying car” has tempted inventors since the 1910s — and disappointed them nearly as long.

In the optimistic 1950s, Ford’s Advanced Design Studio built the Volante Tri-Athodyne, a ducted-fan prototype that looked ready for takeoff but never left the ground. The Moulton Taylor Aerocar actually flew, cruising at 120 mph and folding its wings for the highway — but only five were ever built.

Even the military tried. The U.S. and Canadian armies funded the Avrocar, a flying saucer-style VTOL craft that could hover but not climb more than six feet. Every generation since has produced new attempts — from the AVE Mizar (a flying Ford Pinto that ended in tragedy) to today’s eVTOL startups like Joby and Alef Aeronautics, the latter already FAA-certified for testing.

The dream keeps coming back because it represents freedom — freedom from traffic, limits, and gravity itself.

Got a permit for that?

Here’s where reality checks in. The Federal Aviation Administration now classifies electric vertical takeoff and landing aircraft under a new category requiring both airplane and helicopter training. You would need a pilot’s license, medical exams, and specialized instruction to legally take off.

Insurance? Astronomical. Airspace? Restricted. Maintenance? Complex. In short: This won’t replace your daily driver any time soon. Even if the Roadster hovers, the FAA isn’t handing out flight permits for your morning commute.

RELATED: You can now buy a real-life Jetsons vehicle for the same price as a luxury car

Image provided to Blaze News by Jetson

Free parachute with purchase

Flying cars sound thrilling until you consider what happens when one malfunctions. A blown tire is one thing; a blown thruster at 200 feet is another. Tesla’s autonomy might help mitigate pilot error, but weather, visibility, and battery reliability all pose major challenges.

NASA and the FAA are developing new air traffic systems to handle “urban air mobility,” but even best-case scenarios involve strict flight corridors, automated control, and years of testing.

In short: We’re closer than ever to a flying car — but not that close.

Sticking the landing

So will the Tesla Roadster really fly? Probably — at least for a few seconds. Will it transform personal transportation? Not yet.

But here’s the thing: Musk doesn’t have to deliver a mass-market flying car. He just has to prove that it’s possible. And that may be enough to reignite public imagination and investor faith at a time when both are fading for the EV industry.

If the April 2026 demo delivers even a glimpse of flight, it will cement Tesla’s image as the company that still dares to dream big. If it flops, it will join the long list of “flying car” fantasies that fell back to Earth.

Either way, we’ll be watching — because when Elon Musk says he’s going to make a car fly, the world can’t help but look up.

Bugs for thee, beef for me: How big business monopolizes meat



President Trump is right to turn his gaze toward the meatpacking industry. It’s one of the dirtiest businesses in America — not just in hygiene, but in habit. I grew up around beef cattle, familiar with the blood and bone that keep this machine alive.

What was once a farmer’s trade has become a monopoly’s empire. Four corporations now control nearly 85% of U.S. beef processing. They set the prices, squeeze the ranchers, and pass the pain to consumers — all while preaching “market efficiency,” that modern hymn for exploitation.

When the men who raise the cattle can’t afford to eat steak and the companies that kill them post record earnings, something stinks — and it isn’t the beef.

The transformation wasn’t sudden. It crept in, one merger at a time, one farm foreclosure after another. The local slaughterhouse — once a fixture of every rural county — vanished, replaced by sprawling steel citadels where flesh and spirit move down the same assembly line. The small family business that once sponsored Little League or donated to the parish fundraiser is gone, its name buried beneath a global brand logo. What remains is meat without meaning: shrink-wrapped, standardized, and severed from life.

Bled dry

The result is as dire as it is deliberate. Independent ranchers are being bled dry. Farmers sell out not because they want to, but because the alternative is bankruptcy. When four conglomerates dictate what you earn, what you buy, and what you eat, the free market ceases to be free — it becomes feudal. The serfs still wear denim and drive pickups, but they serve the same masters: corporate overlords with billion-dollar appetites and offshore addresses.

Consumers don’t fare much better. They pay more for lesser cuts, duped into believing the illusion of abundance. The supermarket shelves are full of choice, but the choice has already been made. The labels may differ, but the profits lead to the same boardrooms. When the men who raise the cattle can’t afford to eat steak and the companies that kill them post record earnings, something stinks — and it isn’t the beef.

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Axelle/Bauer-Griffin/Andia/Getty Images

Corporate cleavers

The story is no different across the Atlantic. In Europe, the meat trade has been quietly butchered by the same corporate cleavers. Small abattoirs — the lifeblood of rural France, Ireland, and Spain — have disappeared beneath the weight of regulation and consolidation. What used to be an honest trade of handshakes and hanging carcasses is now ruled by faceless conglomerates answering to Brussels and shareholders in Frankfurt. The European Union speaks loftily of “sustainability,” but its policies have done more to sustain monopolies than livelihoods.

Ask a French farmer about EU policy, and you’ll get a shrug somewhere between despair and disgust. In Ireland, cattle farmers — men like my father, who once fed nations through famine and war — now feed debt. In Germany, abattoir workers live in company dorms, shipped in from Eastern Europe to keep costs down. The romance of the pastoral has been replaced by the cold arithmetic of the spreadsheet.

From beef to bugs

Meanwhile, consumers are told to eat less meat “for the planet.” How convenient for the corporations that now sell the alternatives — lab-grown patties and insect protein, neatly packaged in recyclable guilt. They’ve found a way to profit from both sides of the moral ledger: first by monopolizing real meat, then by marketing its replacement. It’s a master class in hypocrisy and a catastrophe for the working class.

Trump’s decision to investigate the industry won’t fix a century of collusion overnight, but it is a long-overdue reckoning. For decades, Democrats and Republicans alike treated Big Meat as too big to question. The lobbyists wrote the laws, the lawyers buried the lawsuits, and the bureaucrats looked away. The result is a landscape where cattle ranchers depend on corporations that despise them and consumers rely on supply chains that could snap at any moment.

Food, the most basic human need, has become another instrument of control. When you own the meat, you own the man. Farmers used to raise herds; now they herd invoices and inspectors.

It’s tempting to believe that this system is simply broken. It isn’t. It works exactly as designed — to enrich the few and exhaust the many. The old rural ideal of self-reliance has been slaughtered on the altar of efficiency. What we are left with is a parody of plenty: full shelves, empty towns, and even emptier pockets..

Trump’s probe may not slay the beast, but at least someone is willing to pull back the curtain and show the nation what’s really being carved up. For decades, the Big Four packers have sliced the market to ribbons, fixing prices while farmers starved and consumers paid the bill. Now, for the first time in generations, there’s a man in power with the will to carve them up instead. Call it poetic justice: The butchers may finally find themselves on the block.

Kerosene lamps: Your escape from the sickly glare of LEDs



It’s my favorite time of year. When it gets cold, I fuel up four or five of the dozens of antique kerosene lamps I own. I use these to heat and light my house in winter; the charm and warmth make the cold and dark more bearable.

In past columns I’ve tried to convince you to abandon new, low-quality appliances and buy old workhorses. This time I want to persuade you to go even lower-tech and give flame light a try. You want to gather around the lamp with good people. You’ll find yourself staring into the flame, noticing the warmth it radiates (literal and metaphorical).

My center drafts have saved me during electricity outages in winter, giving enough light to work by as well as heat.

No electric lamps will make you feel this way. Some are very beautiful, of course, and the most charming use the original Edison-style incandescent filament bulbs. But they’re almost gone.

Thanks to meddling safetyist government, we live under the ghastly glow of LEDs. Before that, it was compact fluorescents. And before that, it was the sickening, flickering off-green morgue illumination of the overhead fluorescent tube, the appropriate furnishing for the inhuman Brutalist aesthetic that has infected 90% of commercial office space in the U.S. since the 1960s.

We weren’t made to live this way or light this way. We did not evolve under unnatural artificial light stripped of whole swaths of the color spectrum, drained of infrared.

We evolved by the campfire. For most of human history, the communal fire was the only source of “artificial” illumination at night. Firelight is a first cousin to sunlight, the original illumination that gave rise to all life on earth.

I’m going to give you basic tips on buying and running lamps, from simple to more complex. There’s a kind of kerosene lamp for everyone.

Sensible safety

Use common sense. You’re working with fire, and larger lamps put out a lot of heat, so be mindful that there’s plenty of clearance between the top of the chimney and the ceiling.

Keep charged fire extinguishers (you should anyway).

Yes, of course it’s possible to tip over a lamp, but in practice, it rarely happens unless you’re careless. They’re weighted to be fairly stable.

People also ask if my cats knock over the lamps. The answer is no, but you must use your own judgment because you know your animals and the layout of your house. My cats love to sleep near them for warmth and will walk on a table to get to them. But they don’t bump them. Again, you must exercise your own judgment.

Shredder the cat dozes by a center-draft lamp. Josh Slocum

No, you’re not in danger of carbon monoxide poisoning. Do you have a gas cookstove? Did you ever worry that you would get carbon monoxide poisoning from having your gas cookstove running? If you’re not afraid of your gas stove giving you carbon monoxide poisoning, there’s no physics-based reason to fear it if the flame comes from a kerosene lamp instead.

Carbon monoxide results from incomplete combustion. No combustion is 100% complete, but these lamps are burning close to it. I have been running kerosene lamps for about 15 years. They’ve never even blipped my smoke or carbon monoxide detectors.

No, the lamps won’t “suck up all the oxygen.” Your house is not hermetically sealed. The air is changing over all the time, even with your windows closed. You’re not in a pressurized submarine hull.

But “fumes,” you say. Every time you burn your favorite scented candles, you’re doing the same thing at a small scale, but no one is afraid of “fumes.” I think “fumes” is just miasma theory of disease, like how people used to falsely believe that bad odors from graveyards could transmit sickness to the living.

The only “fumes” you’re going to get with a lamp using clean kerosene are a bit of kero smell on lighting and on extinguishing. If it bothers you, take the lamp outside to light and extinguish. Remember that your ancestors right here in America all lit their homes this way, rich or poor. People weren’t dying of “fumes” or “lack of oxygen.”

The right stuff

Burn only clear, undyed kerosene. Not “lamp oil.” Not “lamp fuel.” These lamps want one thing only: the specific chemical we call kerosene. It’s a petroleum distillate similar to (but much less stinky than) diesel. Kerosene is not explosive like gasoline; don’t fear an explosion.

If you’ve experienced stinky oil lamps, it’s almost certainly because someone was burning “lamp oil,” which is liquid paraffin wax. This stuff clogs up wicks, it burns half as brightly as kerosene, it can smoke, and it smells awful. Stick with clear kerosene labeled “K1” or “1K,” found in your hardware store, Tractor Supply, Walmart, and similar stores.

Level I: Flat-wick lamps

Let’s introduce you to lamps. I categorize as Level I, Level II, and Level III. We’re going to go from simplest and least expensive to more high-powered lamps. If you’re new to lamps, start with Level I, the flat-wick lamps.

Everyone knows these lamps. These are what come to mind when you hear the phrase “oil lamp.” You remember lamps just like this from "Little House on the Prairie" on television.

These are called flat-wick lamps because, you may have guessed, their wicks are flat. This is my “sewing lamp,” so called because it’s tall enough to sit on a table by you for handwork.

Josh Slocum

Consider a wall-mounted flat-wick lamp, too. These can fit in beautiful wrought-iron brackets. Mount them to a stud in the wall and enjoy the character they add to your room. Below is one of my Victorian wall-mount lamps with a mercury reflector.

Josh Slocum

Level II: Center-draft lamps

So-called “center-draft” lamps are my personal favorite, and I recommend that you get at least one of them. They draw air from a central tube in the middle of the burner. Unlike flat-wick lamps, center-draft lamps have a round wick. They're larger than most flat-wick lamps, so they put out about three times the light and heat of a basic lamp.

One center-draft lamp is enough to heat a medium-sized room, and you can cook over it in a pinch by rigging up a trivet. My center-draft lamps have saved me during electricity outages in winter, giving enough light to work by as well as heat. They’re essential equipment for anyone who is into prepping for emergencies. Plastic electronic LED lights with fancy solar panels can’t hold a candle to the rugged practicality and versatility of these.

Here’s my favorite, the “New Juno” model, made from 1886 to about 1915.

Josh Slocum

Any center-draft lamp is a good buy as long as it has all the parts necessary for operation (be sure it has a flame spreader). At the end of this article, I’ll link to businesses that specialize in advice and replacement parts. Do a little bit of reading, and you’ll learn everything you need to know before you buy.

Level III: The magical Aladdin lamp

Technology becomes as fun as it will ever get when one tech is declining as another rises. The old tech has to compete with the new, so the old tech gets refined to its highest potential just before it becomes obsolete.

That’s the Aladdin lamp. “Aladdin” is a brand name, not a generic type. These lamps are the zenith of kerosene technology that was competing with new electric light. These are mantle lamps. What does that mean? Bring to mind the Coleman lanterns you remember from camping. The ones that hiss and put out a very bright light. Those are mantle lamps too.

Aladdin lamps are mantle lamps, but instead of burning compressed gas, they burn kerosene.

In mantle lamps, the light does not come from the flame. The flame is used to heat the incandescent mantle. This is a thin, delicate mesh impregnated with rare-earths and mineral salts. These elements glow white-hot under heat. This is how the Aladdin lamp can produce a light that matches modern electric bulb output.

They are wonderful devices, and I have a few, but they are more finicky. They need a mantle, and you have to be very careful to keep the wick absolutely level, or you’ll get flame spikes that leave black carbon deposits on your mantle. The solution is to turn the flame low and burn off the carbon slowly.

Here’s my 1936 Aladdin Model B in green Corinthian glass:

Josh Slocum

Hopefully this has tempted you to get your first kerosene lamp. There are some dependable businesses run by people who love these lamps and know everything about them. Most breakable and replaceable parts like the glass chimneys and the wicks are still made and readily available from these purveyors and others.

Nobody knows more about lamps, and nobody has a wider selection of wicks, chimneys, diagrams, and how-to articles, than Miles Stair on the West Coast of the U.S. Go to his site first whenever you have a question.

Woody Kirkman of Kirkman Lanterns manufactures and sells quality reproduction lamps and replacement parts for antiques. You have likely seen his work in period films and at Disney parks and like. He is often hired to supply kerosene and gas lighting fixtures for movies and TV and for theme parks.

Gather those you love around you, and light your lamp.

My kids make me sick!



I never used to get sick.

Every once in a while, sure. But it wasn’t really a regular phenomenon. It also didn’t really matter that much when I did. Yeah, I had work to get done and grocery shopping to do. But when I was a young single guy without any kids, getting sick just didn’t really impact my easy life that much.

I’ve also tried avoiding the illness at all costs. Washing my hands constantly. Staying away from the kids a little. Hugging them gently rather than wrestling like a madman.

Couch bound

Before that, when I was a kid, I loved getting “sick.” Those scare quotes are key. I didn’t actually love getting sick so much as I loved staying home from school because I was sick. That was fun. One day home from school was cool. Two days home was crazy. Going to sleep after the first day home sick, it was glorious knowing that unless a miracle occurred in the middle of the night, there would be yet another day of sitting at home on the couch watching TV.

I remember one year I got mono, and I was home for more than a week. I swear it may have been two weeks. I remember secretly wondering how long I could go with it. “What if I didn’t go back for a month?” A kid can only dream of something so beautiful.

Mono was a serious illness, I guess, but I don’t ever remember really being sad about it. Getting out of school was worth far more than the pain of a sore throat or a feverish head.

Germ magnet

Now I get sick a lot. Well, maybe not a lot, but a lot more than I used to in my 20s, and I certainly don’t like it like I did in my early teens. Now I know without a shadow of a doubt that as soon as I start seeing frost on the grass in the morning, I am going to get sick. And then a month or two after that, I am going to get sick again. And maybe even again after that if I’m really unlucky.

It’s not because I have developed a debilitating disease that results in an unnaturally sickly disposition. It’s because I’m a dad, and my kids are young, and young kids touch stuff in the stores and then stick their hands in their mouths, and then three days later one gets sick, then 24 hours after that another one gets it, and then my wife, and then finally me. Whatever it is runs through the house like a steamroller, and we all get squashed.

RELATED: Sweat equity: The surprising health benefits of a hot bath

Mirrorpix/Getty Images

Amor fati

I’ve tried a variety of different tactics over the years. I’ve tried giving up right from the start. Knowing that I’ll get it eventually, I accept my fate and just sort of live life with the sick kids. It feels pretty good psychologically. I’m not worried or stressed out about how I can avoid the illness. I don’t end up over-monitoring my body, trying to discern if I am getting sick or not. I just sort of march toward the cold in a blissful state.

I’ve also tried avoiding the illness at all costs. Washing my hands constantly. Staying away from the kids a little. Hugging them gently rather than wrestling like a madman. Backing my face away as they cough without covering their mouths, then telling them in a frustrated tone, “You need to cover your mouth.” Trying my hardest to prevent the unpreventable. It’s not a great feeling, and I always end up getting sick anyway. But at least I tried. That’s something, right?

Getting sick is just a part of having kids. I know that now. It can be mitigated by hounding them about washing their hands with hot soapy water and not touching their mouths in stores, but it can’t be eliminated entirely. It’s an inescapable fact of family life. If someone gets sick, everyone gets sick.

Family fever

It’s an allegory, of course. When you have a family, you can’t get away. You can’t separate or isolate. You are no longer just yourself. You are everyone at the same time.

We have our separate bedrooms and separate closets, but we share the same space. We have our own plates and silverware, but we share the same dish. We have our own inner thoughts and our own personalities, but we share the same name, the same blood, and the same familial predispositions that are part nature and part nurture, the ones that can’t really be untangled or even really figured out.

We make our kids into the kids they are in ways we can see and in ways we intend, through the prayers we say and the manners we demand. But we make them into who they are in other ways too. Some we don’t see, and some are unintentional: the phrase a kid says that sounds just like mom or the curse word a kid says that makes you realize you really do need to stop swearing.

We make them, and they make us. I’m different now from what I was before, and it’s partly because they made me that way. When you have a family, you are not only taking on the responsibilities of raising kids but also accepting that you aren’t alone anymore. That nothing in life will be tidy (literally or figuratively) like it was before. You are trapped together, you turn yourself over to no longer being yourself and only yourself.

For better or for worse. In sickness and in health.

Fat chance! Obese immigrants make America sicker.



It was one of those perfect Donald Trump social media posts — the kind that seems to straddle the line between truth and fiction, to bend and warp reality and make you ask, “Did he really just hit send on that?"

"Many in the fake news media have claimed that we will begin denying visas to overweight people," it began, before clarifying:

They have even come up with a term for these people, “High Calorie Humans.” This is TOTALLY FALSE. We will not ban all fat people from entering our Great Country, only those whose poor health will overburden our health care system. Visa applicants who are only slightly overweight have nothing to worry about. The bigger ones will need to trim down to get approved. We will EXPAND this rule to cover Expats in the near future.

The cherry on top was a closing swipe at one of Trump's favorite celebrity targets, currently in self-imposed exile in the Republic of Ireland: “Rosie, you will never return to This Great Country."

The US isn’t the first country in the world to limit entry to fat people. Other weight-watchers include Canada, Australia, and ultra-liberal New Zealand.

The phrase "High Calorie Humans" achieved instant "covfefe" status, as fans and haters alike reacted to the latest Trump provocation.

Fat shame

Except it was fake — a meme created in response to the very real news that the State Department has added obesity to the list of conditions that could bar foreigners from living in or visiting the U.S.

You know you're in the country's head when your constituents do your trolling for you. And you know you've hit a nerve when you dare suggest Americans could lose a few pounds — a form of truth-telling otherwise known as "fat-shaming."

But the U.S. is a country in which a Centers for Disease Control survey carried out between 2021 and 2023 found that a staggering 40.3% of adults were obese, with 9.4% having “severe” obesity.

That's using the standard metric of BMI, which uses height and weight to estimate body fat. But researchers have proposed including other anthropometric measurements in addition to BMI — such as waist circumference, waist-to-height ratio, and waist-to-hip ratio — for a more accurate assessment of obesity. Using this metric, the proportion of obese Americans could skyrocket to as much as 68.6%.

Heavy burden

No matter how you measure obesity, its direct medical costs are estimated to be some $170 billion a year, a figure that rises to more than $1.4 trillion when you consider the added effects.

And that's the burden Trump's new directive hopes to ease. With millions of overweight Americans already straining the country's health care system — and hitting taxpayers where it hurts — the last thing the country needs is to take on more patients from other countries.

America already rejects visa applications for those with conditions (like diabetes) that could make them a "public charge" — that is, someone likely to become dependent on government assistance.

The new directive builds on previous “public charge” rules, but it’s the first time obesity has been named specifically.

The directive applies primarily to immigrant visas — visas that will lead to long-term or even permanent settlement in the U.S. — and not non-immigrant visas (such as H-1B visas) or short-term tourist visas. Fat foreigners will still be able to visit the U.S. and work there. They just won’t be able to settle, unless they lose weight.

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Weight-watchers

The U.S. isn’t the first country in the world to limit entry to fat people. Other weight-watchers include Canada, Australia, and ultra-liberal New Zealand.

In one well-publicized case from 2009, the Kiwis denied residency to a British nurse who tipped the scales at 134 kg and had a BMI of over 50. A BMI of 25 is considered healthy. Officials estimated that her lifetime costs to the taxpayer could exceed NZ $800,000 or about US $500,000 at the time.

Canada and Australia have similar rules in place, but they receive much less attention.

Otherwise, though, there aren’t many “anti-fat” laws in effect worldwide. There’s Japan’s “Metabo” law, which came into effect in 2008. It is often described, misleadingly, as some kind of “ban” on fat people per se, but it’s not.

Instead, the law imposes an obligation on companies to ensure that workers between ages 40 and 74 receive an annual waistline measurement and help losing weight if they need it. Companies that don’t comply can be fined, but overweight workers themselves are not subject to any form of official punishment. In any case, Japan still has a remarkably low obesity rate, of around 4%.

Open borders for hotties?

I and other posters in my little corner of X have long called for restrictions of various kinds on overweight people, including proposals to prevent fat people from entering the country, in the name of beauty and the general welfare.

One of these proposals was even given the name “open borders for hotties”: If you’re fit and attractive (ideally female), you’re welcome, but if not — no thanks!

Critics will moan that Trump’s new rules for “HIGH-CALORIE HUMANS” are unfair and discriminatory, but frankly I can’t think of a policy that’s more in line with the fundamental MAGA principles. Immigration should benefit the nation, not sap its strength and resources. If a massively overweight person comes to the U.S. and the taxpayer has to fork out hundreds of thousands of dollars to cover his medical bills, what’s America First about that?

Instead of that fat person, a slim person with discipline and self-control could be brought into the country — or better yet, no immigrant at all. The money would be better spent elsewhere, and there are too many people in the country as it is.

The “HIGH-CALORIE HUMANS” rules are a clear sign, for all their apparent absurdity, that President Trump still understands what MAGA is and what it should stand for. Let’s see that understanding applied to immigration policy across the board and most of all to the H-1B visa system, which has been used for decades to disenfranchise and dispossess native workers. High calories, low wages — same difference.

Trading in your car? Here's how to get the biggest payout



When you find the right new car after a long search, it can be tempting to close as soon as possible. But before you sign, there’s one question that can save — or cost — you thousands.

What should you do with your current car?

Should you trade it in at the dealership or sell it privately? It’s more than a convenience question — it’s a strategy. And with used-car prices still unsettled, the right choice can make a real financial difference.

Let’s break down what actually matters and what the dealership won’t always volunteer.

Financial fork

Most buyers can’t keep their old car when upgrading. They use it as part of the down payment. But there are two very different paths:

  • Trade it in.
  • Sell it privately for typically more money.

Reality check: Dealerships rarely offer full market value. They need to buy low and sell high — it’s business. Knowing that puts you in control.

If your car is worth $15,000 privately, a dealer may offer $12,000. That’s $3,000 lost — money you could use to lower your loan or upgrade trims.

Why trade-ins win

Sometimes a trade-in is the smarter move — especially in states offering a sales tax credit.

Example: Buy a $40,000 car and trade in a $10,000 vehicle. You’re taxed only on $30,000, which can save you hundreds.

If the tax break closes the gap between your private-sale price and the trade-in offer, taking the trade may be the better move. Plus, there’s no hassle: no listings, no test drives, no strangers.

The timing sweet spot

Timing matters. The best moment to sell or trade is before your factory warranty expires.

  • 3 years / 36,000 miles for basic.
  • 5 years / 60,000 miles for powertrain.

Cars still under warranty are easier to resell and command higher prices. If your car is paid off, clean, and under those mileage limits, you’re in the prime window.

When you owe money

You can trade in a car with an outstanding loan — but be careful. If your car’s value is less than the payoff, that’s negative equity.

Your options: pay the difference Or roll it into your new loan (not ideal).

This is how people end up upside-down for years. Avoid it by calling your lender for your payoff amount and checking your car’s true value on KBB or Edmunds.

If you have positive equity, that difference becomes your down payment.

RELATED: Quick Fix: What's the safest used car for my teenager?

CBS/Getty Images

Watching the market

Used-car prices have swung wildly since the pandemic. The market is still strong for vehicles that are under five years old; well below 14,500 miles/year; and properly maintained.

If that describes your car, a private sale may be worth it. If not — high miles, cosmetic issues, or a soft local market — a trade-in may be the smarter, calmer choice.

Mileage and condition

Both private buyers and dealers care about the same things: mileage and condition. Before selling or trading, get the car detailed; fix small cosmetic flaws; replace worn tires or weak batteries; and gather maintenance records.

A clean, documented car always sells faster and for more.

The private sale payoff

Selling privately usually brings the highest price. But it has strings attached: writing the listing, taking photos, answering questions, meeting buyers, and handling title and payment. If that sounds like too much, a trade-in may be worth the lower price. But if you have a desirable car and the patience, a private sale can easily beat any dealer offer.

Final decision points

There’s no one-size-fits-all answer. The right move depends on your equity, your time, your state's tax laws, your loan payoff, and your tolerance for hassle.

What matters is going in informed.

Know your numbers. Know your choices. Don’t let a dealer rush you. Done right, you can upgrade smoothly and walk away financially ahead.

Bottom line: Do your homework, understand the trade-offs, and choose the path that keeps the most money in your pocket.

Locked out: How Big Auto could destroy the used-car market



When it comes to replacing your daily driver, “used” is often the smartest buy. A low-mileage model from a few years back can save you real money while offering nearly all the same features. And as long as you do your homework, a well-maintained used car is every bit as serviceable as something brand new.

But that might not be true for much longer.

In states without strong right-to-repair protections, shops are already reporting cases where newer vehicles simply can’t be serviced without dealership intervention.

Automakers are steadily locking down the data that modern cars generate. If they succeed, independent repair shops, do-it-yourself mechanics — and your wallet — will feel the squeeze. The stakes are enormous: 273,000 repair shops, 900,000 technicians, and 293 million vehicles could be affected.

Stick with me. By the end of this, you’ll know exactly why the national right-to-repair movement is pushing the REPAIR Act — and why it’s worth calling your legislator today.

Gatekeeping data

For decades, car repair was straightforward. The OBD-II port — standardized in 1996 — gave shops and owners direct access to diagnostic data. That openness fueled competition, kept repairs affordable, and protected your right to choose who services your car.

Today’s vehicles are computers on wheels, containing hundreds of microprocessors and dozens of electronic control units. And instead of sending data through that familiar port, cars now stream diagnostics wirelessly through telematics systems. In 2021, half of all vehicles already had this capability. By 2030, McKinsey projects 95% of new cars will be fully connected.

Here’s the problem: That wireless data goes straight to the manufacturer. They become the gatekeeper — deciding who gets access, at what time, and for what price.

Independent shops get shut out or forced to pay steep fees for limited information. Consumers get funneled back to dealerships. And while telematics can offer real benefits — remote diagnostics, predictive maintenance — those perks mostly stay inside the dealership network when automakers control the data.

Drivers pay the price

When manufacturers monopolize data, drivers pay the price.

  • Higher repair costs: Independent shops must buy expensive, manufacturer-approved tools or subscriptions — or they can’t complete repairs at all.
  • Fewer options: Your trusted neighborhood shop may be unable to work on newer models, leaving you with dealership-only service.
  • Privacy erosion: Every drive generates information on your habits, location, and behavior. Automakers routinely share or sell that data to insurers, advertisers, and third parties — often without clear consent.

In states without strong right-to-repair protections, shops are already reporting cases where newer vehicles simply can’t be serviced without dealership intervention.

The aftermarket fallout

Independent repair is a massive economic engine. Cut off their access to data, and the ripple effects are huge:

  • Aftermarket parts makers struggle to design compatible components.
  • Innovation slows.
  • Dealers gain monopolies on everything from diagnostics to repairs.
  • Wait times increase while prices rise.

Voters have noticed. Massachusetts passed a telematics right-to-repair initiative in 2020 with 75% approval. Maine followed in 2023 with 84%. Those wins matter — but a patchwork of state laws won’t protect drivers nationwide.

Enter the REPAIR Act

Industry groups — including the Auto Care Association, MEMA Aftermarket Suppliers, and the CAR Coalition — are backing the REPAIR Act (H.R. 906). It’s not radical. It simply updates consumer rights for the connected-car era.

Four core principles drive the bill:

  1. No artificial barriers to repair or maintenance.
  2. Owners and their chosen shops get direct access to vehicle-generated data.
  3. No manufacturer can mandate proprietary tools or dealer-only equipment.
  4. A stakeholder advisory committee keeps the rules current as technology evolves.

The act restores choice. You can repair your own vehicle — or choose any shop you trust. It bans anticompetitive behavior like withholding service information or requiring dealer-exclusive parts. And crucially, wireless data must be shared through secure, standardized, owner-approved channels.

NHTSA and the FTC would set cybersecurity rules. Consumers would receive clear data-sharing notifications. And if manufacturers abuse the system, the FTC can act fast.

RELATED: Right-to-repair sweetens McFlurry but sours when lives are at stake

400tmax via iStock/Getty Images

Skimp my ride

Without the REPAIR Act, the used-car market collapses into uncertainty. Vehicles that require dealer-only repairs will lose value quickly. Planned obsolescence accelerates. And as cars become fully connected, the familiar OBD-II era winds down.

A car you buy in 2025 could be effectively “dealer-locked” by 2030.

Manufacturers argue they need total control for cybersecurity. But secure, standardized data access — the model used globally — proves you can protect vehicle integrity without destroying competition.

The aftermarket already has a workable framework: encrypted data, authenticated access, owner permissions, and interoperable platforms. It's practical, safe, and ready today.

The price of inaction

Without federal action:

  • Repair costs rise 20%-50%.
  • Independent shops close.
  • Innovation dries up.
  • Consumer privacy evaporates.
  • The used-car market contracts.

The REPAIR Act reverses all of that. It creates a fair system where manufacturers build the cars — but the aftermarket keeps them running.

Don’t wait. Act.

This affects every driver. Contact your representative and urge support for the REPAIR Act.
It protects choice, savings, and your right to repair in a digital automotive world.

Your car, your data, your repairs. That’s what’s on the line.