My brother doesn’t drive. If you ask him why not, he’ll tell you “I get mustard on my shirt when I eat hotdogs.”

This isn’t a complete non sequitur. My brother reasons that if he makes mistakes like getting mustard on his shirt when he eats hotdogs, he might make other mistakes. He doesn’t mind getting mustard on his shirt that much. He just has to wash it.

He’s more concerned about making mistakes when driving. He’d need to fix cars and buildings and people.

When I lived in Toronto, I didn’t drive either as my contribution to public safety. The only reason that I started driving was that I moved to a town with no public transit. It took a lot of driving lessons. So far, I haven’t killed anyone.

I still get mustard on my shirt.