By Michel Shane, Columnist
On Aug. 9, my daughter Emily would have been 29.
Instead, 15 years ago, she became just another statistic on the Pacific Coast Highway. One minute — one devastating moment — and an angry driver, eager to lash out, made my child his victim. No sidewalk. No protection. Just inches between Emily and someone’s rage.
I’ve endured 15 years of that pain. Fifteen years of watching this community wring its hands while more families join the club nobody wants to be part of. Fifteen years of “thoughts and prayers” while we do nothing that saves lives.
I’m done.
Done accepting that 61 deaths over 15 years are just the cost of living in paradise. Finished watching $154 million get allocated for PCH while we keep applying band-aids to a system built to kill. Finished pretending that painted lines on a highway somehow protect human lives.
The truth about our death trap
PCH isn’t just dangerous — it’s intentionally dangerous. We’ve built a highway that forces cars, cyclists, and the few brave souls who dare walk to share the same space. It was designed for vehicles to go 65 mph — a speed that isn’t posted anywhere. Then we act surprised when people die.
PCH was built last century, and instead of embracing the new century and everything it offers, we’re relying on technology from the previous century and hoping we’ll appreciate painted lines and warning signs.
Two weeks ago, I wrote about a man and his companions who walked across PCH as if it were a rural road, unaware of the danger. They had no idea they were crossing a deadly trap. Emily knew the risk — she was being cautious. But it didn’t matter.
Every week, I see visitors risking their lives trying to reach Nobu or Zuma Beach. Every day, cyclists gamble with death because they have no other choice. Every shift, our first responders face scenes that didn’t have to happen.
And we keep telling ourselves: “That’s just PCH. It’s always been dangerous.”
That’s a lie.
Here’s what saves lives
Stop with the painted bike lanes. Stop with the warning signs. Stop with the useless thoughts and prayers. You want to save lives? Here’s how:
Right now: Install smart protection systems that work with our existing roads. Technology and lights — like the lane assist in your car — that alert drivers when they’re drifting into danger zones. Elevated guides that let cars cross for driveways but prevent the deadly wandering that kills people. Smart detection systems at beach crossings that warn drivers when someone’s trying to cross safely. Cost: $3 million to $4 million instead of $200,000 in paint that drivers ignore.
But what about driveways and buses? Smart infrastructure means barriers that work with reality, not against it. Elevated barriers that cars can cross when they need to access driveways, but high enough to prevent the deadly drifting that kills cyclists and pedestrians. Technology and lights — almost like the lane assist in cars — that alert drivers when they’re veering into protected space. Flexible delineators that bend when buses pull over but spring back to protect people.
We’re not talking about concrete walls. We’re talking about smart design that saves lives without disrupting commerce or emergency access. The space is tight, but so was Emily’s — just inches between her and that angry driver.
This year: Manual barriers that drop flat when fire threatens, but protect human beings every other day. GPS systems that automatically give emergency vehicles green lights. Cost: $4 million to $6 million.
Before more families lose everything: Fully protected infrastructure spanning 21 miles. Barriers that emergency vehicles can pass through, allowing tourists to feel confident. Cost: $10 million to $18 million total.
You know what that is? A fraction of the $154 million already committed to PCH — money that’s just sitting there while we debate whether human lives are worth protecting.
The blue highway
During Woolsey, when PCH turned into a parking lot, the ocean was right there, ready to ferry people to safety while everyone else sat trapped, waiting to burn.
We’d rather spend $154 million repaving the same deadly highway three times than invest in reliable transportation. The ocean doesn’t crash into families trying to reach the beach.
This stops now
I can’t bring Emily back. But I can stop watching this community accept preventable death as normal. No one should have to walk in my shoes.
In December, I wrote that it wouldn’t be nice to go a year without deaths on PCH because we did something to fix it. Now, due to fire damage and construction, we might achieve a death-free year — not because we made PCH safer, but because we made it nearly unusable. What does it say about us that it takes a disaster to make our main street safe?
As this paper reaches you on Thursday, I’ll be preparing for what should have been Emily’s 29th birthday on Saturday — the last year of her 20s. Would she have been married? What career would she have chosen? Would she have been happy? Where would she be living? All these questions I ponder as I miss my sweet girl. Instead, I’m writing this, hoping no other parent has to mark the same kind of anniversary.
Someday — I don’t know when, and I hope it never happens — another parent will receive the call I received 15 years ago. Unless we stop accepting “that’s just how it is.”
Here’s what love looks like: Refusing to let one more family join The Empty Chair Club and demanding that $154 million in PCH funding — plus Olympic infrastructure money — creates actual protection instead of prettier pavement over the same killing machine.
Love means calling everyone — City Council, supervisors, senators, representatives — until everyone listens. Show up to the next council meeting. Vote for representatives who understand that human life matters more than bureaucratic convenience.
Love means saying: No more Emily’s. Not one more. Not on our watch.
The money exists. The technology exists. The only question is whether we love our community enough to demand better, or whether we’ll keep accepting death as the price of paradise.
I know what Emily would want. I know what every family who’s lost someone on PCH would wish to.
What about you?
Call your State Representatives — they control PCH, not the city:
State Sen. Ben Allen: (310) 318-6994 | ben.allen@sen.ca.gov
Assemblymember Jacqui Irwin: (805) 642-1904 | assemblymember.irwin@assembly.ca.gov
Gov. Gavin Newsom: (916) 445-2841 | governor@gov.ca.gov
Next City Council Meeting: Aug. 11 at 5:30 p.m.. Demand that they pressure the state.
Your choice: Accept another death or demand the protection our community deserves.