Department of Transportation Reportedly Preparing Voluntary Federal Pilot Allowing American Drivers to Register as Certified Assholes

Washington, D.C. — The United States Department of Transportation is preparing to launch a voluntary federal pilot allowing American drivers to formally register themselves as certified assholes and receive specialized license plates, dashboard indicators, and bumper decals identifying them as such to the general motoring public.

The program, officially titled the Behavioral Identification & Transparency System — or BITS — will roll out in select states later this year, pending what one memo described as “final compliance review by the Office of Plain Language.”

Department officials, who insist the initiative is neither punitive nor diagnostic, frame the program as a long-overdue acknowledgment of what every commuter already understands intuitively: that a meaningful percentage of fellow motorists are, in their own internal self-conception, assholes — and that the roadway would be measurably safer if everyone simply knew which ones.

“The issue isn’t the existence of assholes,” one department representative reportedly stated during a closed-door briefing. He continued: “It’s information asymmetry.”

A Federal Reckoning with the Obvious

For decades, the Department of Transportation has measured roadway risk through a familiar inventory of physical variables: vehicle weight, speed, intoxication, weather, surface friction, and the relative elasticity of guardrails. According to a 2,847-page internal review commissioned in late 2024, none of these metrics adequately accounted for what the report termed “the dominant behavioral substrate of modern American driving.”

The substrate, in the report’s language, was assholes.

Researchers identified what they described as a “persistent disclosure gap” in the existing regulatory framework. Drivers, the report observed, are required to disclose only the most superficial facts about themselves — name, address, organ-donor preference, corrective-lens status — while the single most predictive variable in any given roadway encounter remained, by tradition, a surprise.

“We regulate the vehicle exhaustively,” the report concluded. “We regulate the operator almost not at all.”

The Behavioral Identification & Transparency System was developed in direct response. Its premise is elegant in its institutional simplicity: rather than attempting the impossible task of reforming the American driver, the federal government will instead invite him to declare himself.

The Program: Voluntary, Public, and Surprisingly Well-Attended

Under the BITS framework, any licensed driver in a participating state may submit a voluntary application through their local Department of Motor Vehicles. The application consists of three parts:

A Self-Identification Affidavit, in which the applicant attests under penalty of perjury that they are, in fact, an asshole on the roadway.
A Behavioral Disclosure Schedule, in which the applicant ranks their preferred modalities — tailgating, late merging, refusal to signal, brake-checking, horn-as-conversation — in declining order of frequency.
A Vanity Plate Selection Form, in which the applicant chooses their permanent identifier from a federally maintained roster of approved alphanumeric combinations.

Successful applicants receive a credentialing packet within ten to fourteen business days, including:

A specialized rear and front license plate, color-coded matte black with reflective lettering
A dashboard-mounted indicator light, amber, visible through the windshield in daylight conditions
Two optional bumper decals reading CERTIFIED — BITS REGISTERED PARTICIPANT
A laminated wallet card affirming the holder’s disclosure status, for use during traffic stops
A printed welcome letter from the Secretary of Transportation, signed in autopen

Early prototype plates released to the press include:

A spokesperson for the department confirmed that the plate-selection roster currently contains 847 approved combinations, with an additional 2,847 under review by the Office of the General Counsel for what one staff member described as “regrettable second-order readings.”

The Rationale: An Information Problem, Not a Character Problem

Senior DOT officials have been careful to frame BITS not as a moral intervention but as a logistical one. At a press briefing held in a federal building basement that contained, by direct count, nine American flags and one functioning window, an Assistant Secretary outlined what she called “the three pathologies of the current system.”

Pathology One: Uncertainty

Under existing law, a driver entering a four-way intersection has no reliable mechanism for determining whether the operator of the adjacent vehicle intends to honor right-of-way conventions, invent new ones, or escalate the encounter into a federal case. “Every intersection is a coin flip,” the Assistant Secretary said. “We are asking Americans to gamble two hundred times a day.”

Pathology Two: Delayed Recognition

In the absence of preemptive disclosure, drivers typically identify an asshole only after the asshole has already acted. “Recognition,” the briefing materials note, “currently occurs at the moment of damage.” This produces what the department calls a “reactive safety posture,” whose effectiveness is functionally indistinguishable from luck.

Pathology Three: Unexpected Encounters

Most concerning, the department argues, is the phenomenon of the unannounced asshole — the operator whose surface presentation (sedan, hatchback, family minivan, sensible roof rack) bears no correlation to his interior conduct. The BITS program eliminates this category entirely by reclassifying the driver, not the vehicle, as the operative variable.

“What we are proposing,” the Assistant Secretary concluded, “is not behavioral modification. It is behavioral labeling.”

Public Safety Benefits, as Enumerated by the Department

According to materials distributed at the briefing, the BITS program is projected to produce the following civic outcomes once participation reaches steady state:

Citizens may maintain safe distances from registered participants, calibrated to the disclosure tier indicated on the dashboard placard.
Citizens may adjust expectations for merging behavior, signal usage, and four-way-stop comportment, with reduced cognitive load.
Citizens may immediately identify, by visual scan alone, who not to fuck with.
Citizens may reroute preemptively upon recognition of three or more registered vehicles within a half-mile corridor.
Citizens may decline to make eye contact with full institutional support.

The department’s internal projections suggest that voluntary disclosure, if adopted at a participation rate of even 12–15 percent, would yield a measurable reduction in the diffuse roadway anxiety the report terms “ambient American dread.”

Early Applicants: A Profile in Voluntary Candor

Pilot-stage enrollment numbers, released only in aggregate, show a participation pattern the department has described as “robust, unembarrassed, and faster than expected.” Applications outpaced initial supply within the first nine days. The DMV of a mid-sized Ohio jurisdiction reportedly ran out of welcome letters and began issuing them via grocery-store receipt paper as a stopgap.

Interviews with early registrants reveal a population not only willing to self-identify but, in many cases, eager.

“I respect honesty,” said one applicant, a forty-three-year-old contractor from suburban Arizona, gesturing toward his newly issued BRK-CHK plate. “I’ve been driving like this for twenty years. The least I can do is tell people.”

“I’m not changing,” said another, a recently retired insurance adjuster from outside Pittsburgh. “I’m disclosing.”

“Look, I don’t signal. Never have. My father didn’t signal. His father didn’t signal. Now there’s a plate for that,” said a third, declining to be photographed but consenting to be quoted.

Several applicants reported framing the registration packet upon receipt. One Tampa-area participant, Gerald L., declined to give his full surname but confirmed that he had mounted his welcome letter beside his concealed-carry permit, his marriage certificate, and an 847-page document of unrelated origin.

Field interviewers noted a striking absence of shame across the applicant pool. Several participants reported relief. One described the disclosure process as “the first honest paperwork I’ve filled out since I got divorced.”

Analyst Perspective: Preemptive Personality Signaling

Independent observers have begun to situate the BITS program within a broader behavioral framework now circulating in transportation policy literature, governance journals, and at least two consultancies attempting to bill for it. The framework, introduced by a Washington-area research collective, is called Preemptive Personality Signaling.

The premise: rather than asking institutions to manage behavior they cannot observe, allow individuals to broadcast their behavior in advance, thereby transferring the regulatory burden from the state to the bystander. The bystander, armed with disclosure, adjusts. The state, freed from enforcement, applauds.

Under this framework, behavior becomes:

Visible — rendered in plate form, indicator light, and bumper text
Surprise-resistant — encounters no longer require interpretation
Avoidable — with sufficient lead time and one open lane

One analyst, who asked not to be named because he was already in three other articles this month, summarized the philosophical wager underlying the program with notable economy: “Transparency may succeed where reform failed.”

He continued: “We have spent half a century trying to make Americans drive better. That hasn’t worked. We are now going to try the opposite. We are going to let them drive exactly the way they want to drive, and ask them only to put a sticker on it.”

The analyst paused, then added: “It will work. I am terrified of how well it will work.”

Implementation: A Tiered Disclosure Schedule

Internal DOT documentation reveals that the program will operate across three disclosure tiers, with plates color-coded accordingly. Each tier corresponds to a self-reported severity level on the Behavioral Disclosure Schedule.

Tier I — General Disclosure

For drivers who self-identify as “routinely impatient” or “mildly aggressive in traffic.” Plate color: muted gray. Estimated population: 38 million.

Tier II — Active Disclosure

For drivers who self-identify as “openly hostile” or “committed to the bit.” Plate color: matte black with reflective amber. Estimated population: 14 million. Includes complimentary dashboard indicator.

Tier III — Permanent Disclosure

For drivers who self-identify as “a known quantity” or “not the one to test today.” Plate color: matte black with reflective red. Estimated population: 2.4 million. Requires a notarized affidavit and a brief in-person interview with a regional disclosure officer. Includes a commemorative pin.

Department officials emphasize that tier assignment is voluntary, non-binding, and may be revised annually. A driver who feels they have over-disclosed may petition for downward reclassification at any time. A driver who feels they have under-disclosed may simply mail in an upgrade form and a $47 processing fee.

Concerns, and the Department’s Responses to Them

The program has not been received without skepticism. A coalition of civil liberties organizations, joined by an unrelated coalition of automotive enthusiast publications, has raised what they describe as “a non-trivial number of process concerns.”

Concern: Will registered participants be ticketed less frequently?

Department officials have declined to confirm or deny this directly, but did note that BITS-registered vehicles will be excluded from automated enforcement systems in three pilot states, on the grounds that “the disclosure itself constitutes a form of community notice.”

Concern: Could employers, insurers, or romantic partners access the registry?

The department has stated that the BITS registry is “not currently” available to third parties, a phrasing that civil liberties observers described as “technically accurate, in the moment of its utterance.”

Concern: What prevents non-asshole drivers from registering ironically?

Nothing. Officials have indicated that ironic registration is permitted, and in fact welcomed. “The affidavit is self-attesting,” one staffer noted. “If a person believes they are an asshole sufficiently to fill out the paperwork, the department is not in a position to disagree.”

Concern: Won’t this normalize the behavior it discloses?

The department’s formal response to this concern is six sentences long. Five of them are rhetorical questions. The sixth reads, in its entirety: “We do not believe normalization is possible for a condition already universal.”

Industry Adjacencies: Who Else Wins

The BITS rollout has produced rapid commercial interest from sectors not traditionally associated with federal transportation policy. Several developments are worth noting.

Auto insurers have begun internal discussions about offering modest premium discounts to BITS-registered drivers, on the actuarial logic that a disclosed asshole is a predictable asshole, and predictability is rateable. Two carriers are reportedly preparing a joint product called CandorAuto, marketed under the tagline “We Know. You Know. Now Everybody Knows.”

Navigation app developers have begun licensing the BITS registry — or are attempting to, pending the department’s clarification of its “not currently” position — in order to layer real-time disclosure data onto existing traffic maps. A beta feature seen on one platform displays nearby registered vehicles as small amber dots, accompanied by an ambient warning chime described by testers as “tasteful but unmistakable.”

Bumper-decal manufacturers report a 340% increase in custom-order volume since the program’s announcement, driven primarily by non-registered drivers seeking decals that approximate the BITS aesthetic without the underlying federal commitment. The department has issued a cease-and-desist memo addressed to no one in particular.

Driving schools have begun offering optional “BITS Preparedness” modules, in which student drivers are taught to recognize the visual markers of registered participants and adjust trajectory accordingly. The course is four hours long. It costs $247. It is fully booked through October.

A Brief History of Voluntary Disclosure

The BITS program, while novel in its specific application, is not without precedent in the broader American tradition of regulatory disclosure. Department materials situate it alongside several earlier initiatives.

The 1970s introduction of cigarette warning labels, which did not reduce smoking but did clarify expectations.
The 1990s rollout of nutrition facts panels, which did not reduce caloric intake but did permit consumers to fail with information.
The 2000s expansion of online terms of service, which did not protect privacy but did establish that everyone agreed it could not be protected.
The 2010s emergence of social media bios, in which Americans voluntarily disclosed their politics, employers, and emotional states to anyone who clicked.

Viewed in this lineage, BITS is the natural continuation of an established American compromise: institutions stop trying to fix the underlying behavior, and instead require that the behavior be clearly stated in advance. The state, once an enforcer, becomes a notary.

A Note on the Plates Themselves

The aesthetic of the BITS plate has received attention disproportionate to its function. Designed by an unnamed federal contractor described in budget filings only as “a graphic designer who once worked on a Marvel film,” the plate features matte-black backing, reflective serif lettering, and a small embossed seal in the lower right corner reading D.O.T. — CERTIFIED HONESTY.

Early reviews of the design have been, on balance, positive. One automotive blog called the plates “easily the most striking thing the federal government has produced since the moon landing commemorative quarter.” A competing publication described them as “the only government-issued identifier with genuine resale value.”

Department officials confirm that an active secondary market in surrendered or reclaimed BITS plates has already emerged. One verified ASH-001 plate, the lowest-numbered specimen in the inaugural batch, sold at a Pennsylvania auction for $8,470. The proceeds were donated to a driving safety nonprofit that promptly returned the check, citing “mission incompatibility.”

The Civic Question

What BITS proposes, beneath its plates and indicator lights and laminated wallet cards, is a quiet renegotiation of the relationship between the American driver and the American road. For a century, the unwritten contract has held that every motorist will at least pretend to be courteous, lawful, and attentive — that the asshole, when he appears, is an aberration to be condemned. The BITS program inverts this entirely. The asshole is now a class of citizen, recognized by the federal government, equipped by the Department of Transportation, and accommodated by the surrounding traffic.

It is, in this sense, a deeply optimistic program. It assumes that Americans, given the option to be honest about their conduct, will take it. Early enrollment numbers suggest the assumption is sound.

Whether honesty produces safety, or merely produces clarity about the absence of safety, remains an empirical question. The department’s internal modeling, declassified in part, suggests both outcomes are likely, and that the difference between them may not be statistically meaningful.

The Bottom Line

The Behavioral Identification & Transparency System is not, in its design or its likely consequence, a safety program. It is a disclosure program. The federal government has examined decades of failed behavioral reform on the American roadway and arrived at the conclusion most institutions eventually reach: that the behavior cannot be changed, only labeled.

BITS is, in this respect, a quiet act of policy surrender dressed in the costume of policy innovation. It does not ask Americans to drive better. It asks Americans to declare, in advance and on a federal form, that they will not.

The plates are striking. The participation numbers are robust. The roadway remains exactly as dangerous as it was the day before the program began — only now, with appropriate signage.

Editorial Footnotes

[1] The Behavioral Identification & Transparency System, the Department of Transportation pilot described herein, the credentialing packet, the tier structure, the prototype plates, the dashboard indicators, the wallet cards, the autopen welcome letters, and the CandorAuto insurance product are all fictional constructs. No federal asshole registry exists. No federal asshole registry is, to the best of our knowledge, presently under interagency review. The Office of Plain Language is not a real office. The Department of Transportation has not issued, and is not preparing to issue, license plates reading BRK-CHK.

[2] The broader phenomenon the article satirizes — the steady institutional drift from behavioral reform toward behavioral disclosure, in which regulators stop attempting to alter conduct and instead require that the conduct be clearly labeled in advance — is, by contrast, entirely real. Cigarette warnings, nutrition facts panels, terms of service, allergen notices, side-effect disclaimers, and the warning label on virtually every consumer product manufactured in the last forty years all operate on a closely related premise: that the institution has accepted the harm, priced it in, and resolved its remaining obligations through notice.

[3] The signature numbers appearing throughout this article — 847, 2,847, $8,470, the $247 course fee, the 12–15 percent participation threshold, the 38 million / 14 million / 2.4 million tier population estimates — are stylistic conventions of The Externality, not empirical claims. The reader is invited to treat them as such.

[4] The phrase “who not to fuck with,” rendered in this article as a stated public-safety objective of a federal pilot program, is the editorial position of the publication and not of the Department of Transportation, which has no public position on the matter and which does not, in actuality, exist in the form described.

[5] At press time, unregistered drivers continued merging aggressively, refusing to signal, and acting naturally. This portion is not satire.