Americans are paying more for new vehicles — and it’s not because of greedy dealers or temporary supply disruptions.

The real problem? The modern automobile has become a government-regulated platform.

This regulatory floor helps explain why many entry-level vehicles have disappeared. Automakers did not abandon affordable cars because Americans suddenly rejected them.

What once functioned primarily as personal transportation is now layered with federal mandates, compliance systems, and policy-driven technology. The cost of that transformation is embedded into every vehicle sold.

The average transaction price for a new vehicle now hovers around $48,000 to $50,000, according to Cox Automotive — nearly double what many Americans paid a decade ago. That figure is not driven primarily by dealership markups or consumer excess. It reflects a system in which regulatory requirements steadily raise the baseline cost of every vehicle before it reaches a showroom.

Dealers sell what they are allowed to sell. Consumers pay for what regulators require to be built.

Regulations stack

Unlike market innovation, federal mandates rarely replace older requirements. They stack. Safety rules, emissions standards, cybersecurity protocols, and connectivity requirements accumulate over time. Each new layer raises the minimum cost of building any vehicle, regardless of brand or segment.

Automakers no longer decide which technologies to include based solely on consumer demand. They build to regulatory specifications — and those specifications grow more complex every year.

Driver-assistance: No longer optional

Advanced driver-assistance systems are a clear example. Lane-keeping assist, automatic emergency braking, blind-spot monitoring, cameras, radar units, and onboard processors were once optional upgrades. Today most are standard across model lines due to evolving federal safety expectations and liability pressures.

These systems require sensors, software calibration, processors, and constant updates. They also increase repair costs. A recent study by AAA shows that vehicles equipped with advanced driver-assistance features can cost 20% to 40% more to repair after collisions, in part because sensors must be recalibrated or replaced.

Whether buyers want every feature is beside the point. The technology is built in.

RELATED: Would you buy a car from Amazon?

Nicolò Campo/Bloomberg/Getty Images

Engineering complexity

Emissions regulations add another layer. Even gasoline-powered vehicles now rely on increasingly sophisticated emissions control systems, specialized materials, and complex software calibration to meet tightening federal and state standards.

These systems improve measurable compliance outcomes, but they also increase engineering complexity and production cost. Manufacturers cannot legally offer simplified alternatives that fall outside regulatory thresholds.

Computers on wheels

Modern vehicles are now rolling computer networks. Federal standards increasingly require data systems, cybersecurity protections, over-the-air update capability, and integrated monitoring infrastructure.

Hardware, antennas, processors, software validation, and compliance testing all add cost. None of it is optional at scale. Once these systems are embedded into vehicle architecture, they become permanent cost centers.

‘Kill-switch’ costs

One of the least discussed provisions of the federal Infrastructure Investment and Jobs Act requires the installation of advanced driver monitoring systems designed to detect impairment in future vehicles. Critics have labeled this a “kill-switch” mandate because the rule requires technology capable of preventing operation under certain conditions.

Regardless of terminology, implementing such systems requires additional hardware, sensors, software integration, validation, and certification. Even before activation or enforcement details are finalized, the design and compliance costs are already being built into pricing structures.

When every manufacturer must comply, there is no competitive pressure to eliminate the expense.

Tariffs and supply chains

Tariffs compound the issue. Import duties on vehicles and automotive components affect not only foreign-built cars but also vehicles assembled in the United States that rely on global supply chains. Steel, aluminum, semiconductors, and specialized materials all move through international networks.

When tariffs raise component costs, those increases flow downstream. Automakers do not absorb them indefinitely. Dealers do not control them. Buyers ultimately pay.

Extinct entry-level

This regulatory floor helps explain why many entry-level vehicles have disappeared. Automakers did not abandon affordable cars because Americans suddenly rejected them. They exited those segments because compliance costs made lower-margin models difficult to sustain profitably.

When the baseline cost of meeting regulatory requirements approaches what buyers can reasonably pay for a basic vehicle, the product becomes economically unviable.

Shrinking used-car market

The used-car market offers limited relief. As new vehicles become more expensive, consumers hold onto existing cars longer. According to S&P Global Mobility, the average age of vehicles on American roads has climbed to nearly 13 years, an all-time high.

Fewer late-model trade-ins tighten supply. Prices rise. Regulatory-driven cost increases in the new-car market ripple outward and affect every segment.

EV expenses

Electric vehicles illustrate the same dynamic. Federal incentives, emissions targets, battery sourcing rules, and manufacturing credits shape production decisions and model availability. While battery costs have declined over time, compliance requirements and policy alignment continue to influence pricing and product mix.

For many households, the upfront cost of EVs remains significantly higher than comparable gasoline models — even after incentives.

Fixed costs

The expectation that prices will fall once supply stabilizes misunderstands how regulatory-cost structures function. Supply constraints can ease. Compliance costs rarely do.

As long as vehicles are treated as platforms for policy implementation rather than purely consumer goods, the floor price will continue to rise.

High vehicle prices are not simply a market fluctuation. They are, to a significant degree, a policy outcome.

And until policymakers reckon with the cumulative cost of regulatory layering, the $50,000 vehicle will increasingly become the norm — not the exception.

​Lifestyle, Auto industry, Car prices, Emissions, Ev mandate, Kill switch, Align cars 

We live in a scaled-up, real-world version of the classic children’s board game “Mousetrap.” The built world is over-engineered, too interdependent, and so precarious that a slight disturbance might bring the whole thing down.

The interconnected, precarious Rube Goldberg contraption that is modern society has more than just rolling balls and baskets and levers. Our real, physical-world interdependencies include reliance on digital algorithms and computing devices that no one can intuitively understand. It’s the worst of both worlds, physical and electronic.

This is a real-world lesson in physics and mechanics that teaches universal principles that can never be altered by whim or historical vogue.

A friend’s internet service went out recently. Even though she was able to get a human staff member on the phone, that human wouldn’t talk to her to even confirm that the company recognized that she was a paying customer.

Why? Because she couldn’t log in to her email on another device and recite a “one-time code.” Remember, she was calling because she didn’t have internet access. Cell signals in rural states are often insufficient for internet use. You see the problem.

Everything is like this, but everyone is acting like this is the way things have always been. It’s not true. There is no reason to live this way. It is not a natural law. The overcomplicated world is not something that just “happened.”

This setup is a result of choices. Disconnected choices, yes. There’s no central mind that has created our society. There’s no single controlling cabal that has engineered the way we live, communicate, procure food, or any of that. There are powerful interests, legal and commercial, that influence our society more than you and I as individuals can influence it. But it’s not a conspiracy in the classic sense. It’s a result of accumulated errors. We need a reset.

Memories of the analog world

1979. My family slipped away from Tully, New York, in the dead of night by means of my grandmother’s silver Buick Electra. The Buick told you that she had a V-8 through the distinctive muffled bass rumble from twin tailpipes. She was what I call an “honest mechanical.”

We boarded the Amtrak to cross the country so my stepfather, a glassblower who specialized in making electrodes, could find a job. There was nothing left for a working-class man in Upstate New York in the 1970s.

On arrival in Los Angeles, my Uncle Lee and Aunt Sherry were waiting in a 1979 lemon-yellow Cadillac Coupe de Ville. A Cadillac. I was going to ride in a Cadillac!

The trunk mechanism on my Uncle Lee’s Cadillac was my first introduction to what I would later think of as overcomplicated or dishonest mechanicals. It did this amazing thing I had never seen before. The trunk lid raised and lowered all by itself, untouched by human hands. After my mother loaded the last suitcase into the cavernous trunk, the enormous yellow deck lid silently, slowly crept downward. When the lid reached the latch, the mechanism slowed down to a crawl to give you a “soft and silent” latch.

Today, my base-model Toyota has all those bells and whistles plus more. The “more” is the irritating part. Nothing in the car is controlled mechanically or directly. Everything is drive-by-wire. The car decides when to spin the wheels when stuck in snow, even though I could do a better job if I were allowed to control the traction. Even the heater fan and lights are programmed to slowly, softly ramp up and ramp down, as if a too-sudden onset of sound or light would strike the driver with apoplexy.

Man and machine

The legend of John Henry both horrified and fascinated me as a child. The steel-driving man of folklore tried to prove he was as good as the new-fangled steam drill at chipping out a tunnel to lay track. John Henry swung his sledgehammer until his muscle fibers broke and he died exhausted on the ground, while the steam piston kept reciprocating.

I understood that this tale from America’s railroad age was really about our present. It was obvious to me even as a kid in the 80s: Machines were crowding out the men. The mechanization of work inverted our values; humans had to live up to the demands and preferences of machine logic, not the other way around.

John Henry’s last act was a way of saying, “I am a man, and I live.”

RELATED: America needs mechanics; here’s where to apply

Getty Images/Heritage Images

Honest mechanicals

Honest mechanicals are machines that can be observed, understood, and intuited. They show their works; nothing is hidden from the hands or the eyes. Compare honest mechanicals to modern digital devices. Call those devices “black boxes” whose function cannot be observed, understood, intuited, or reverse-engineered by human senses alone.

Black boxes (computers of various sorts) are not mechanicals at all. They don’t have levers or pulleys or counterweights, or sprockets, or escapements. They have invisible states of magnetic orientation. You cannot see the works with your eyes, and the complexity of a chipset is beyond the human mind’s ability to grasp.

A piece of photographic film with a light-sensitive emulsion that forms an image is an honest mechanical. The image is readable by the human eye.

A .jpg picture file is a black box. The image cannot be read or intuited by humans without another black box we call a computer.

A steam locomotive is an honest mechanical. Observe that you can understand how the machine turns heat into steam, turns steam pressure into lateral force, and then translates lateral force into rotary motion, thus moving the train and its passengers along.

You can intuit an honest mechanical. And if you have children, especially boys, I recommend that you introduce them to honest mechanicals. Show them how steam engines work. Show them a cutaway of an internal-combustion automobile engine. Let them take apart a blender or a stand mixer to see how electric motors produce rotary motion.

Here’s an easy hands-on lesson you can and should do with your kids, starting at about age 4. It doesn’t matter that the lesson uses “obsolete” technology. That is a benefit. This is a real-world lesson in physics and mechanics that teaches universal principles that can never be altered by whim or historical vogue.

Make your own record player

Materials:

1 33 and 1/3 long-playing record album — one that’s scratched that you don’t care about1 #2 pencilconstruction paperScotch tape1 sewing needle

Instructions:

Form the construction paper into a cone and tape together. Tape the sewing needle securely to the small end of the cone. Think of an old gramophone with a needle attached to a brass horn — that’s what you’re doing.

Put the pencil inside the center hole of the record. Spin the record like a toy top, and help your kid lower the needle-in-a-cone onto the guide groove at the edge of the record.

Magically, you’ll hear the sound on the record, slightly amplified by the paper cone. Sure, it’ll be at the wrong speed, and maybe you won’t be able to parse the words. But you and your kid will immediately understand basic sound recording and reproduction. You will understand that sound can be transcribed as a wave form that can take real-world, physical form in the bumps and pits of a piece of material.

Most importantly, your child will understand that the material world actually exists and that it is analog.

This matters. It matters more than you probably know. Modern young people have grown up in a world of portable computers and phone screens that appear to show them reality, but that do nothing but arrange points of light into virtual simulations. Have you noticed that young Millennials and younger seem not only put off and frightened by simple mechanical technology — mechanical telephones, cars that use a clutch and a gear shift — but almost disgusted and embarrassed by devices from just a generation ago?

This is not merely the universal plaint of the old about the shortcomings of the young. The world today is different to an extreme degree from the world of just one or two generations ago. Young people don’t know how to get around town without GPS, they’re frightened to get driver’s licenses at 16, and few can even whip up a basic meal on a stovetop. Why would they know these things when they’ve been reared to believe that food and transportation just “happen” by sliding your fingers along an iPhone touchscreen?

Do what you can to ground yourself (first) and your kids and grandkids back inside the real, physical, material, analog world. Remember what John Henry knew: We are men and women, and we live.

​Lifestyle, Culture, Diy, Build your own, Analog, Digital, Tech, Parenthood, Education, How to, Intervention 

Biomedical research has produced extraordinary breakthroughs that have saved countless lives. But too many promising drugs now stall in federal review, and children with rare diseases are paying the price.

I’m a bioscientist. My work has focused on how healthy cells function and how that knowledge can be applied to therapeutic enzyme development. I’ve spent my career working inside the disciplines that move a treatment from lab bench to patient: protocol design, reproducibility, evidence standards, and layered human testing to ensure safety.

Is this simply bureaucracy doing what bureaucracy does? Or are rare pediatric therapies effectively facing a higher bar inside the system?

Standards, evidence, and process matter. But so does urgency.

Children with rare diseases do not live on regulatory timelines. They lose function month by month — speech, mobility, independence, even the ability to breathe on their own.

Of the more than 6,800 known rare diseases, about 70% begin in childhood. Better-known examples include Duchenne muscular dystrophy, Gaucher disease, and cystic fibrosis.

Developing therapies for these children is difficult, expensive, and slow even under the best conditions. Treatments such as Ultragenyx’s UX111 for Sanfilippo syndrome, Sarepta’s Elevidys for Duchenne, and Regenxbio’s RGX-121 for Hunter syndrome can take decades to develop, years to move through trials, and still more time to reach the children who need them.

That reality makes avoidable regulatory delay even harder to defend.

Too often, applications do not stall because the underlying science has failed. They stall over manufacturing or procedural concerns — in many cases, issues that are fixable and not directly tied to whether the therapy is clinically helping patients. Those delays can undermine the purpose of the FDA’s accelerated approval pathway, which exists to move critical treatments to patients faster while additional data is collected.

As a scientist, I was particularly troubled by the FDA’s recent rejection of a promising Hunter syndrome treatment and by yet another clinical hold placed on its development despite positive trial results.

That raises an uncomfortable question: Does the review process itself need review?

RELATED: The FDA is undermining a culture of life inside and outside the womb

Bill Oxford via iStock/Getty Images

The approval path for UX111 is another example. The therapy went through the rigorous biologics license application process, only to be delayed by a manufacturing hold.

Elevidys offers a similarly painful lesson. More than 1,200 Duchenne patients received the treatment over three years. Then, after two non-ambulatory patients (including one with underlying complications) tragically died, the FDA pulled the treatment from all patients, leaving families crushed and panicked.

Children are waiting too long for access to potentially life-changing therapies.

Yes, medical breakthroughs have increased. But so have regulatory burdens tied to approval and release. By the time many of these therapies reach the market, a decade or more has passed. In rare pediatric disease, that delay has a name: time children do not have.

Sometimes, it is their entire lifetime.

Manufacturing processes can be improved. Facilities can be upgraded. Paperwork can be corrected.

Lost neurons and muscle fibers cannot be replaced.

FDA leaders, along with Congress and the White House, should push for a smarter accelerated approval process — one that allows multiple requirements to be addressed simultaneously when appropriate, instead of serially dragging out timelines. If regulatory review had moved more efficiently, the Sanfilippo treatment might have cleared on its original 2025 approval timeline. Duchenne patients might not have lost access to the only available gene therapy. Hunter syndrome patients might not still be waiting.

This debate is not about abandoning safety or efficacy standards.

Ultragenyx has said manufacturing improvements are addressable and not directly related to product quality. Sarepeta responded to FDA concerns over Elevidys by requesting black-box warnings while allowing treatment to continue for ambulatory patients. In the RGX-121 Hunter syndrome case, the FDA rejected the use of a long-accepted biomarker (cerebrospinal fluid) used in the trial.

RELATED: ‘Hold Big Pharma accountable’: Vaxx giants are sure to be nervous about Rand Paul’s new bill

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These decisions do not help children with rare diseases. Timely, science-based approvals would.

And the stakes go beyond today’s patients. Regulatory efficiency also affects whether companies continue investing in rare-disease therapies at all. Orphan drug development requires major upfront investment, long timelines, and often poor financial returns. In many cases, these programs are closer to philanthropic science than blockbuster pharma economics.

When developers face repeated slowdowns across different diseases, sponsors, and technologies for reasons unrelated to core clinical safety or efficacy, the signal to the market is clear: Don’t take the risk.

That is how innovation gets smothered.

At some point, the pattern at the FDA becomes impossible to ignore. Is this simply bureaucracy doing what bureaucracy does? Or are rare pediatric therapies effectively facing a higher bar inside the system?

Those are scientific and ethical questions that deserve honest answers.

Accelerated approval does not mean lower standards. It means applying standards intelligently. It means allowing earlier access while confirming evidence continues to accumulate. It means recognizing that “wait and see” is not neutral. It is a choice that guarantees disease progression in children who cannot afford delay.

Good science and compassion are not competing values. We can maintain rigor and still act with urgency.

The FDA has the authority. The science is moving. The children cannot wait.

Accelerated approval is not cutting corners. It is using every tool we have to save time families do not have.

​Opinion & analysis, Fda approval, Fda regulations, Rare diseases, Childhood disease, Sick kids, Food and drug administration, Bureaucracy, Red tape, Science, Duchenne muscular dystrophy, Gaucher disease, Cystic fibrosis, Healthcare, Hunter syndrome