Modern Cars Are Becoming Giant Surveillance Devices

Section 24220 of the 2021 Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act directs the Department of Transportation to develop a safety standard for technology in future passenger vehicles that can passively detect impairment and restrict operation of the vehicle.

People call it the kill switch provision. It isn’t a remote government button; it’s technology built into the car that monitors the driver and makes a determination about whether you’re allowed to drive. That distinction matters, and so does the broader question of how much decision-making authority we’re comfortable building into the machines we own.

This is why I’ve been looking at older vehicles differently. A new truck can reach a price that would have sounded absurd not that long ago, and that’s before a single sensor fails and a repair balloons into programming, calibration, and dealer-specific equipment.

An old truck has an ignition, an engine, a transmission, and a driver. Nothing analyzing your face, no over-the-air updates, no internet connection needed to do its basic job.

The privacy side, the repair side, the ownership side, physical buttons, and a real key still win for me. If you’ve been eyeing an old truck lately, you’re not the only one. And yes, I have thoughts on Cash for Clunkers.

You’ll Learn:

[0:00] Introduction

[2:13] Modern vehicles became computers with an engine attached

[4:06] Your new car is collecting data and watching you

[6:26] The impairment-detection kill switch provision and what it actually says

[8:56] The “for our safety” rollout pattern I keep seeing

[10:53] When repair was a normal part of owning a vehicle

[13:03] The satisfaction of turning an actual key

[15:19] Cash for Clunkers and the cars that lacked tracking

Recently I’ve been looking at older vehicles completely differently. The more technology gets added to new cars and trucks, the more appealing a simple old vehicle starts to look. I’m not talking about rejecting every modern improvement or pretending old vehicles never had problems.

I’m talking about wanting something that does its job without collecting data, depending on constant software support, or having hundreds of electronic components that can eventually fail.

Hey friends, welcome back to the Gubba Homestead Podcast. I’m Gubba, a first-time homesteader following in the footsteps of my homesteading forebears. Here we talk about traditional living, preparedness, food independence, self-sufficiency, and sometimes the modern systems around us that make me question whether newer is actually better. Today I want to talk about vehicles, because the direction they are heading feels like a perfect example of that.

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A vehicle used to be pretty straightforward. You turned the key, drove where you needed to go, and if something broke, there was a decent chance you or someone you knew could figure out what was wrong. Now a vehicle can feel like a computer with an engine attached to it. There are screens, cameras, sensors, microphones, wireless connections, apps, driver profiles, software updates, remote services, and electronic controls for functions that once required a simple button or lever.

At the same time, the price of buying a new vehicle has gotten ridiculous. A new truck can easily reach a price that would have sounded absurd not that long ago, and that is before interest, insurance, registration, and maintenance. Then something electronic fails and what sounds like a simple repair suddenly involves a sensor, module, calibration, programming, or dealer-specific equipment.

Older vehicles certainly broke down too, but many of the problems were mechanical and relatively understandable. A belt wore out, a hose cracked, an alternator failed, or a starter went bad. You could open the hood and at least recognize most of what you were looking at. With newer vehicles, one faulty sensor can trigger several warnings and send you to a shop where specialized equipment is needed just to identify the problem. Sometimes the replacement part is not even what hurts the most; the programming, calibration, and labor are what send the bill climbing.

Beyond cost and repairability, the privacy side of newer vehicles deserves more attention. Modern vehicles can collect information through location services, cellular connections, infotainment systems, connected phones, driver-assistance systems, cameras, onboard computers, and in some cases microphones. Some of those features serve legitimate purposes, but I still think it is fair to ask how much information a vehicle actually needs to collect about the person driving it.

Most people are not thinking about privacy policies when they walk onto a dealership lot. They are thinking about towing capacity, fuel economy, whether the kids fit comfortably in the back, and what the monthly payment is going to be. They are probably not wondering what information is being recorded or transmitted because they believe they are buying transportation, not joining another digital ecosystem.

This is part of the same reason I’ve been removing unnecessary technology from my house. I don’t need my refrigerator connected to Wi-Fi, my light bulbs controlled through an app, or my washing machine sending notifications to my phone. I want the things I own to work without needing an account, subscription, outside connection, or continuing relationship with the company that sold them to me.

Vehicles are becoming increasingly tied to those same systems, and that changes the meaning of ownership. You can spend tens of thousands of dollars on something and still have certain functions dependent on software, cellular connectivity, remote services, or manufacturer support. I think it is reasonable to question how much control should remain outside of the hands of the person who actually bought the vehicle.

That conversation gets even more interesting when you look at federal legislation surrounding future vehicle technology. In 2021, Congress passed the Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act, and Section 24220 directed the Department of Transportation to develop a safety standard for what the law calls “advanced drunk and impaired driving prevention technology.”

The idea is for newer passenger vehicles to eventually use technology capable of passively detecting impairment, either by monitoring the driver directly or by evaluating driving behavior and vehicle performance. Depending on how the final system is designed, the technology could prevent or limit operation of the vehicle if it determines that the driver is impaired.

This is the provision you may have heard people refer to as the vehicle “kill switch,” although I think it is important to explain what the law actually says. It does not say that police or the federal government will have a button somewhere that allows them to remotely shut down your car. The requirement is centered around technology inside the vehicle that can detect possible impairment and restrict operation.

Even with that distinction, I understand why people are paying attention to it. We are still talking about putting technology into a privately owned vehicle that can monitor the driver, make a determination about that person’s condition, and potentially decide that the vehicle will not operate. Nobody is arguing that drunk driving is a good thing, but I think the broader question is worth discussing: how much decision-making authority are we comfortable building into the machines we own?

Once the capability exists, it becomes part of the infrastructure of the vehicle. We have already watched phones, televisions, appliances, and farm equipment become increasingly dependent on software, accounts, outside services, and manufacturer-controlled systems. Something can begin as a useful feature and gradually become another layer between the owner and the thing they supposedly own.

That is where an older vehicle starts looking very different. An old truck in the driveway is not analyzing your face, monitoring your steering behavior, downloading an over-the-air update, or depending on an internet connection to perform its basic job. It has an ignition, an engine, a transmission, and a driver, and there is a simplicity to that arrangement that feels increasingly valuable.

Older vehicles also came from a time when repair was considered a normal part of ownership. People replaced belts, changed hoses, rebuilt engines, repaired carburetors, swapped starters, and kept the same truck running for years. The goal was to maintain what you already had instead of replacing the entire vehicle because the newer model had another screen or a few additional electronic features.

Over time, you learned the machine. You knew what it normally sounded like, noticed when something changed, and often had at least a basic understanding of what was happening under the hood. That kind of familiarity has disappeared from a lot of modern equipment because so much of it is sealed, computerized, or designed around specialized service.

The same thing has happened in other areas of life. If you owned a tractor, you learned how to maintain it. If you heated with wood, you understood your stove and chimney. If you preserved your own food, you understood how your canner worked. Knowing how your equipment functioned was simply part of using it.

That is one of the reasons basic physical controls appeal to me so much now. I don’t understand why temperature settings need to be hidden inside a touchscreen when a knob worked perfectly well. If I’m driving and want the heat warmer, I should be able to reach over and adjust it without looking through a menu. A physical button does not become obsolete simply because somebody figured out how to put the same function on a screen.

I feel the same way about an actual key. Keyless ignition can be convenient, but there is something satisfying about turning a key and knowing exactly what is happening. Not every basic function needs another electronic layer added to it simply because the technology exists.

Of course, that doesn’t mean older vehicles are automatically better in every category. Newer vehicles have made genuine improvements in crash protection, braking, airbags, structural engineering, and other safety systems. I can appreciate those improvements without believing that every additional screen, connection, sensor, and software feature automatically represents progress.

There is also a very practical homestead reason I like the idea of an older truck. I want to be able to use a truck like a truck. When you spend an unbelievable amount of money on a brand-new vehicle, every scratch feels painful and suddenly you are worried about throwing dirty fencing supplies or feed bags into something that is supposed to be a work vehicle.

An old farm truck already has a few scratches and dents, so another one is not the end of the world. You can haul feed, tow a trailer, load firewood, carry fencing supplies, drive through mud, and actually use the thing for what it was built to do. That makes a lot more sense to me than owning a truck I am afraid to get dirty.

Homesteading has changed the way I look at almost everything I own. It has made me value repairability, durability, and understanding how something works more than having the newest version available. Growing food, preserving harvests, heating with wood, fixing equipment, and learning older skills all teach the same lesson in different ways: convenience is not always the same thing as independence.

That is really why older vehicles have started making more sense to me. It is not about pretending everything was better fifty years ago or rejecting every useful piece of modern technology. It is about wanting a vehicle that I can understand, maintain, repair, and use without so many outside systems being involved in something I depend on every day.

I don’t need my vehicle to remember my preferences, connect to the cloud, monitor my face, or ask me to accept updated terms and conditions. I want it to start when I turn the key, haul what I need hauled, and get me where I am going without making me completely dependent on a manufacturer or dealership every time something goes wrong.

Maybe that means driving an older truck with a few dents, actual buttons, fewer sensors, and a key that still goes into the ignition. As everything around us becomes more connected and complicated, that kind of simplicity is starting to feel a lot less outdated and a lot more valuable.