Modern motor vehicles are safer and more reliable than they have ever been - yet more than 1 million people are killed in car accidents around the world each year, and more than 50 million are injured. Why? Largely because one perilous element in the mechanics of driving remains unperfected by progress: the human being.

Now, if most Americans want to go out and buy a car, they don't say, you know, 'I think I'll call the chairman of the board of Ford Motor Company and see what kind of deal we can make here.'

When I came in, Westerns were the big thing, so I did horse falls, transfers, bulldogs, big fights. That's where you could really shine if you were really good at it. But then all the Westerns stopped, and I was capable of doing car stunts, motorcycle stunts and high falls. I could do it all.

More books, more racing and more foolishness with cars and motorcycles are in the works.

My engineer dad is where my technical acumen comes from. I remember him taking me to the factories to see how what works. Often he used to open up his motorbike to fix things and I saw how the wheels worked. His car used to be open for dissection very regularly. All this taught me and inspired me to look beyond what I could see on the skin.

Cyclists. I really hate them. I wish they would not be so self-righteous and realise they are a danger to pedestrians. I wish cyclists would not vindictively snap off wing mirrors on cars when they were trying to cross in front of the car at a danger to motorists and pedestrians.

In 1990 I had a nasty car accident and in 1994 my husband Ron Edgeworth died of motor neurone disease.

I enjoy racing historic motorcars from the '50s and '60s. The seed of my interest was planted when I was about 12 years old and took over my mother's Morris Minor. I drove it around my father's farm. But my favorite car is still a McLaren F1, which I have had for 10 years.

Long practise in driving a racing car at a hundred miles an hour or so gives first-class training in control and judging distances at high speed and helps tremendously in getting motor sense, which is rather the feel of your engine than the sound of it, a thing you get through your bones and nerves rather than simply your ears.

Forget the damned motor car and build the cities for lovers and friends.

My first car was a motorcycle.

We're just into toys, whether it's motorcycles or race cars or computers. I've got the Palm Pilot right here with me, I've got the world's smallest phone. Maybe it's just because I'm still a big little kid and I just love toys, you know?

I've always had an inquisitive mind about everything from flowers to television sets to motor cars. Always pulled them apart - couldn't put 'em back, but always extremely interested in how things work.

I admit to wasting my life messing around with fast cars and motorcycles.

For a meal out, my number one restaurant is Peter's Inn. I first went there when it was an old biker bar. Believe me, when it was Motorcycle Pete's, that was fun. I had my 30th birthday there.

Motorcycle riding has been a passion of mine since my 20th birthday, and as a proud member of the American Motorcyclist Association and the Harley Owners Group, I can attest that responsible riding has many unique recreational benefits for millions of Americans.

What really went wrong is that General Motors has had this philosophy from the beginning that what's good for General Motors is good for the country. So, their attitude was, 'We'll build it and you buy it. We'll tell you what to buy. You just buy it.'

I will do something, time to time, with motor racing. But I'll never go back, I think, to drive full-time because I've lost that anger, that desire.

No one's banging down my door. People see the way I look, and they don't feel threatened, but they should watch out for me. They don't know there's a steel rod that drives me. I get ticked off, and the rage just gets me going. My motor is anger.

To climb into an airplane and motor up by yourself, it is just amazing.

The connection to place, to the land, the wind, the sun, stars, the moon... it sounds romantic, but it's true - the visceral experience of motion, of moving through time on some amazing machine - a few cars touch on it, but not too many compared to motorcycles. I always felt that any motorcycle journey was special.

Sometimes I'll lie awake at night and listen to the sound of the clock. The motor ticks on endlessly. What an unsettling sound it is when you've yet to find peace - to find solace. Sometimes no matter how exhausted my body is, no matter how tired my thoughts are, no matter how sore my brain and my heart are...even then I still can't fall asleep. Sometimes I wish for nothing more than to sleep. Please, allow me to slip away into the darkest corners of the world and let me be. Just let me sleep. You can close your eyes to the surroundings, but you can't close your ears off to the sound around it. And sometimes the things you wish the most not to hear - are the loudest. They will not go away in the night and be silenced.

"During my travels in India I met a man at an ashram who was about 45-50. A little older than everyone else. He tells me a story. He had retired and he was traveling on a motorcycle with his wife on the back. While stopped at a red light, a truck ran into them from behind and killed his wife. He was badly injured and almost died. He went into a coma and it was unclear if he'd ever walk again.

Some people build custom motorcycles, cars, and knives. I build custom lives.