Matthew accounted himself well-paid for his temporary status as a guinea pig. He dined out on his story for years. “The only time I was drunk I was paid to be—by the Government!” The data gathered by the Royal Commission were eventually published, and duly commented on. In time, campaigns by public health and safety authorities led to better-designed vehicles equipped with impact-absorbing ‘crumple zones,’ soft-touch dashboards, collapsible steering columns, reinforced doors and better tires, with disc brakes, seatbelts, head restraints, air bags and eventually even sobriety detectors. Politicians and manufacturers, Mothers Against Drunk Driving and even Formula I racing’s governing body advocated against impaired driving. Power is nothing without control, and control you manifestly lack when drunk at the wheel.
Matthew remained true to his love of learning for its own sake. His youthful insecurities evaporated. He changed universities, and found more inspiration there as well as sympathetic friends, one of whom later became his wife. With her he shared a love of competitive car rallying and long-distance driving. He drove his beloved ancient Armstrong-Siddeley Star Sapphire until he retired from the public service many years later when he gave it to his son. And one day, he came across the fellow who had once called him ‘roadkill.’ He had become disillusioned with the pressure of filing sufficient ‘billable hours’ as a corporate lawyer, and had settled for a life of rural simplicity as a dairy farmer. Money? Fame? Nope, he said. “Not worth the price.” They had the power, you had no control. If even he had learned this, there was hope for people like Baz…
