If John Staddon’s article in the Atlantic arguing that our roads are unsafe because our traffic laws are too numerous and restrictive had appeared on a forum or as a blog post, it would probably have been dismissed as shallow and juvenile. And had it first appeared in a major newspaper, I imagine there would have been some tedious backlash from the hoards of experienced and safety-conscious drivers who have only a minute or two to skim a few articles while they’re driving to work.

His central argument—that looser traffic laws, more relaxed enforcement, and fewer signs will force drivers to be more attentive and will reduce accidents—echoes sentiments that you can hear at any auto racing event or track day: “I feel much safer driving on the track than I ever do driving on the street.”

Talk to a racer—pro, amateur, occasional track day enthusiast—and he’ll tell you that he’s much more wary and much more nervous driving to work than doing a lap. Motorcycle racers are even more adamant, and some of them are so unnerved by street drivers that they ride their motorcycles only on the track.

The logic is simple: On the track, every driver is focused and attentive. Those who aren’t are quickly identified and removed (or they crash). Further, on track you can reasonably expect other drivers to have the same basic skill set you do. Everyone has a singular goal (to go fast), so cars and drivers move in predictable patterns. Even the unpredictable moments like crashes and slides are, to a degree, predictable: Drivers know that certain corners are difficult and more likely to cause spins and crashes, and they can take extra precautions as they approach those corners. It’s pattern and predictability, not speed, that makes us feel safe.

On the streets, none of this is true: Drivers vary widely in skill, attentiveness, purpose, and predictability. To a degree, this is expected and unavoidable: You miss a turn, a pedestrian crosses carelessly in front of you, you are on an unfamiliar road, at night, for the first time. But much of the time, unpredictable driving maneuvers are the result of carelessness and lack of driving ability.

Staddon blames the distrustful nature of U.S. signage and traffic laws, which are “usually designed to control drivers and reduce their discretion.” Over the years, he argues, signs and laws have multiplied to address the exceptions and anomalies not covered by earlier signs and laws. Now we have so many signs, so many laws, that we cannot use common sense and good judgment to navigate our streets.

This echoes the experience of the racer or track day enthusiast again. Tracks are not overloaded with signs and rules. We have very few flags that require a specific action at a specific time. The black flag and the meatball flag, for example, require you to pit the next time you approach pit lane. A red flag requires you to stop. But even these flags don’t require sudden and immediate action. Under a red caution, drivers are to bring their cars slowly to a stop in a safe position. The immediacy of the stop and the specific position are left to the judgment of the driver.

Further, track signs and flags are standardized. With few exceptions, the same signals and markers are used at all race tracks worldwide. US streets, as most of us know, offer no such predictability. As Staddon points out, similar curves and roads can have different speed limits, and a turn that you could easily take at 30mph in the dry might inexplicably have a 25, 20, or 15 mph limit.

Staddon wants us to borrow traffic policies from the UK: fewer restrictions, standardized and predictable speed limits, and informative, rather than controlling, signs. I am for it, but I believe we have to be aware of how complex the adjustment will be for US drivers, and how long it will take for us to cease to be slaves to signs. It’s a significant behavioral correction. Things, as the cliché goes, would get worse before they got better.

Were the US to implement Staddon’s suggestions, the largest obstacle to driver relearning would be the consistency of the environment. When a driver goes out on the track for the first time, he is overwhelmed by the distinctness: there are grandstands, walls, and fences. There are no lanes. He is wearing a helmet. Likely, he is afraid. It is easy for him to understand that the track is a new environment in which a different set of rules and conventions apply.

Stripping some foolish speed limit signs from that same driver’s back roads and removing most of the stop signs in his home town is a much smaller change. His instincts, which the racetrack shocked and frightened, remain influential in his neighborhood. We have all seen drivers at an intersection refuse to turn on a red light long after a “No Turn on Red” sign has been taken down, and persist in turning long after a sign forbidding it has appeared. Our ubiquitous signs may be decreasing our general awareness, as Staddon says, but greater issue is that the behaviors they teach run deep.

I see few ways to accelerate the relearning that would be necessary. Driver training? Even in principle it’s a poor idea (never mind in practice). Among the behaviors and beliefs that we would need to change, perhaps the deepest-rooted is that we are all skilled and competent drivers. It’s a belief based in time and tradition, not in fact—and the things we believe because we have always believed them are the hardest to change.

The most efficient way to effect this behavioral change, unfortunately, is to let it happen slowly and naturally. If Staddon is right, it’s clearly possible: The UK, he says, has done it over the past 30 years. It certainly sounds better than continuing down our current path.