Emissions: Two weeks ago, I bemoaned the fact that, despite it being a blindingly obvious method of halting the upward spiral of road deaths, there is no programme for teaching driving in Irish schools.
I was wrong. There is. And very successful it is too. Run by Rosemary Smith, the former international rally driver, the Think Awareness scheme has visited hundreds of schools in the past seven years, teaching thousands of transition year students the basics of road safety, observation and traffic signals before they ever get on public roads. Get them while they're young, is her motto. "By the time they're 19 or 20, it's often too late," she says. "Their minds are on other things and safe driving is just not a priority." At the moment, her school is operating on borrowed land in Goff's. But she has bigger plans. She has a 70-acre site earmarked in Co Meath, where she has visions of building a multi-surfaced driving circuit, with roundabouts and other obstacles where students can gain the invaluable experience of coping with all manner of emergencies in a controlled environment.
She has visions of driver training centres all over Ireland, spreading out from a central hub in Athlone, with a centre within 50 miles of every school in the land.
Ambitious? Yes.
Implausible? Far from it.
A good idea? Undeniably.
She has a business plan, she has designs, she has independent financial backing, she has sponsorship from Skoda and she has support from the insurance industry, the AA, the National Safety Council and the gardaí.
But Rosemary is a very frustrated woman. Her work saves lives and makes driving safer for everyone. But she's doing it without a penny of support from the State, which generates billions of euro in motor-related taxes each year. All she wants is a little slice of the pie.
She's been banging her head against a wall of ministerial intransigence for years, fobbed off by a succession of ministers who promise the earth and deliver nothing but hot air.
She's given up looking for money from the Government, tired of "huffing and puffing" against the wind. She's set her sights lower, and is now just seeking a tax break, like they give horse-breeding chums of Charlie's. "If they can give €16 million to an equestrian centre in Punchestown, surely they can allow us a tax break to try and save a few lives?
"It's not good enough to just whine and moan that road deaths are out of control, anyone can do that," she says of Seamus Brennan, for whom, despite her obvious disenchantment, she retains a sneaking regard.
"All I want him to do is get up off his hands and actually do something." So, I ask Rosemary, why do you think you're getting nowhere? "It beats the hell out of me." Perhaps, I suggest, those in power don't like the idea because it's not theirs? "Well, I'm not precious. They can have it and pretend it's theirs, for all I care."
Too late. We know now it's not. Still, we're prepared to pretend too, aren't we?
In case sceptical types among you are wondering, Rosemary's is not a purely altruistic endeavour. She's no moral crusader. "Business is business," she says. And who'd begrudge someone who is trying to do something so positive a decent wage? At the moment, the parents of those teenagers who attend her courses have to pay for the privilege, and do so "willingly". But with Government help, she says, thousands more children each year could benefit. Whatever the cost, what price would you put on your child's safety?
