Original subtitles

Did you know that there was a time

when kids could travel by mail?

One day, a mailman in Ohio

is given a curious package to deliver.

It is an eight-month-old, 10-pound baby.

Do you remember when air travel meant champagne luxury

and mile-high madness?

But as much as you want to sit there

and enjoy your freshly-carved roast beef,

you can't while you're fearing for your life.

Do you remember when the year's hottest car

was downright explosive?

Every time you fill up, you have to check your oil?

I'm not sure I want this vehicle.

These things would go down the main strip

and the engine would burst into the flames.

These are the things we used to do

for fun, for money, or maybe out of boredom,

that we'll never see again.

Were they dangerous?

Certainly.

Deadly?

Occasionally.

But boy, wasn't it exciting.

Before cars, America ran on horsepower.

And by that, I mean the power of horses.

By the end of the 1800s, in major cities like New York,

they were everywhere,

which presented a very particular problem.

By 1900, New York City is home to 170,000 horses.

They're an essential mode of transportation,

but they have one major drawback.

If it were possible to travel back in time,

the thing that would stun people is the stink, the smell.

People are flocking to New York City

thinking the streets are paved with gold.

As it turns out, most of the streets aren't paved,

and a lot of them are covered with manure.

The average horse drops between 25 and

30 pounds of manure

on the streets of New York every single day.

So that's about 25 pounds times 170,000 horses.

In a year, that's 1.5 billion pounds.

The Big Apple is not the only city with a manure crisis.

A British newspaper reports that by 1950,

London, England will be buried in nine feet of dung.

And by that same metric,

New York is gonna be buried in 30 feet.

City street cleaners can't keep up,

and besides that, they use horse-drawn garbage wagons.

So at best, they are two steps forward and one step back.

Even with modern technology,

the city of New York would require a fleet

of 250 garbage trucks

just to clear all of the horse manure out of the streets

with each passing day.

It's so bad that those who can afford it

hire these private crossing sweepers

who can clear a poop-free path for them.

You think it can't get worse?

Just wait until it rains.

Rain wouldn't run off and clean the streets.

Instead, it would turn the streets into open source.

All this sitting manure becomes a hotbed for disease.

Typhoid outbreaks are running rampant in the city.

These flies land on the manure,

and then they go and land on your arm, or your meal,

and that's how the disease spreads.

Typhoid fever is no joke.

Severe cases can lead to internal bleeding

and even kidney failure.

One magazine reports that horse manure

and the diseases it spreads

contributes to the deaths of 20,000 people per year.

That's enough people to fill Madison Square Garden.

And horse owners often leave more behind

than just their horse's waste.

Many of these horses are overworked,

and so if they don't last more than two years

and when they collapse, when they have a heart attack,

when they drop dead,

it's quite common for the owner

to simply unhook the harness and roll away,

leaving the carcass on the street.

So, the streets of Manhattan

were literally littered by horse corpses.

In 1880 alone,

New York City removes more than 15,000 dead horse carcasses.

That's more than 40 dead horses per day.

Some cities even leave the dead horse carcasses

until they start to decompose,

making it easier for them to be sawn apart and carted away.

Not only do decomposing horses

contribute to health problems,

but they're also clogging up the streets

and causing traffic jams.

Starting in the early 1900s,

more and more cars start hitting the streets in cities.

Cars are cleaner, they're quieter,

and they're safer than their four-legged counterparts.

By 1912, New York City has more cars than horses,

and eventually they completely take over.

Today, Central Park is still home

to roughly 200 carriage horses,

but now they are required to use diapers

and manure catchers.

When cars replaced horses as the preferred mode of travel,

the streets were still untamed,

because at first,

not only did you not need a license to get behind the wheel,

you didn't even need a lesson.

In the dawn of the 20th century,

there's about 8,000 vehicles on the road.

The wealthy who could afford a car

hired a chauffeur to drive them around.

Oh, of course, it's an affectation of wealth.

You know, they needed to be driven.

The truth of the matter is the wealthy were hiring drivers

not as a status symbol,

but simply 'cause no one knew how to drive a car.

In 1908, Henry Ford releases the Ford Model T.

It retails for around $850,

which gives nearly every American

the ability to get behind the wheel.

By 1917, there are 5 million automobiles

on the highways and byways of America,

and they all have thing in common.

Nobody knows how to drive any of them.

Today, drivers have to pass a written exam

and a road test.

But a century ago,

most states didn't even require a license.

1919, New York City,

they only require a driver's license

for people who drive their car 11 days or more

throughout the year,

which means that if you drive a car for 10 days or less,

you don't have to have a license.

So you could get behind the wheel of a car

and do whatever you want.

So long as it's not for 11 days in a year.

Can you imagine getting pulled over by the police

and saying, "No, officer, I don't have my license.

It's my third day of driving."

There's also no age limits.

So, it's possible to see kids

that are 10, 11, 12 years old driving the family car

or making deliveries in a truck.

But, it gets way, way worse.

There are no rules of the road at this point in history.

No one knows about yielding, right of way.

Motorists park wherever they see fit.

Could be in front of fire hydrants

or even in an intersection.

You had people not just running into cars,

but more often than not, hitting pedestrians.

And you still have horses and carriages,

and now you're spooking them with horns and with engines,

and you're trying to navigate in and around people weaving

and trolley cars weaving.

It was a dangerous time.

Tons of accidents.

That was really the Wild West of driving.

By 1913, 4,000 people have died

in automobile-related accidents.

And a decade later, that number reaches 12,000.

All the deaths and accidents really spark an outrage.

People started calling them murderers

and the cars were weapons.

I mean, it was a very tumultuous time.

The press brand drivers as killers and murderers.

Things get so bad

that cities start to organize safety parades.

They even had kids dressing in these skeleton costumes

to try to remind people like,

"Don't hit me, I'm a living thing."

In 1914,

America starts to take control of the car problem.

The first electric traffic lights come into play.

There's two colors, green and red.

Green says move and red says stop.

We start to see laws regulating speed.

Someone in Detroit used the paint marker

that you would use on a tennis court

to basically paint some lines

for pedestrians to walk across the street,

thus birthing the crosswalks that we all know and use today.

They knew that there needed to be rules of the road.

There needed to be traffic lanes and proper flow of driving.

So kind of like what a sheriff puts law in a lawless town,

that's sort of what had to happen

in an effort to stop killing Americans with automobiles.

Eventually, all states

require a driver's license,

although it takes some longer than others.

It's crazy to think,

especially when you look at films from the '50s

and you see everyone in their hot rods.

It wasn't until 1954

that South Dakota required a driver's license,

and they don't even require a driving test until 1959.

By the 1930s,

just about every town in America

had at least one working traffic signal,

and the amount of automobile-related casualties

went down by nearly a half.

In the old days of air travel,

passengers dressed up like they were going out on the town

greeted by stewardesses in crisp uniforms and white gloves

who serve cocktails with a smile.

Flying wasn't just transportation, it was an event.

By the middle of the 20th century,

airlines aren't competing with one another

in terms of price.

The basis of competition from one airline to the next,

it's the perks, baby.

Now, I'm not just talking about an eye mask,

a pillow, a deck of cards, or those cute little wings.

First class was as opulent as a modern-day cruise.

You would have meals prepared,

meat carved by your tableside,

champagne in crystal glasses and decanters.

Even in coach, things were much nicer than today.

Flight attendants were actually cooking breakfast,

fresh eggs delivered on an aluminum tray.

This golden age of air travel is romanticized

in movies and on television,

but the real experience was not all that romantic.

Flying in the '50s and '60s,

a lot of planes still had propellers,

which meant that they were really turbulent.

But as much as you want to sit there

and enjoy your freshly-carved roast beef

or your glass of champagne,

you can't while you're, you know, fearing for your life,

being thrown around like a ball in a bingo hopper.

Passengers get physically ill regularly,

and often, they end up covered in vomit.

Things are so bad

that one airline has to rip up all of its carpeting

and replace it with rubber mat.

And it's not just the turbulence

leading to queasy stomachs.

They used to let people smoke on planes,

and not only let you smoke on planes,

they would literally provide you with cigarettes

as a perk of flying on the plane.

But if you're a non-smoker,

the entire experience becomes really noxious.

So now, picture of the plane shaking violently,

stinking of cigarette smoke.

And you're also dealing with the fact that the fuselage

is not the modern airframe that we think of,

which means that hydraulic fluid, and engine oil,

and jet fuel, and all those wonderful tasty smells,

they're leaking into the cockpit.

Hmm.

That's exactly what you wanna smell

when you're feeling nauseous.

The golden era of travel ends in the '70s

when Congress passes a law

deregulating the airline industry,

which means that the airlines

have to recoup their money somehow,

so they decide to start cutting all of these perks.

In 1994, Delta becomes the first US airline

to ban smoking,

and by 2000, it's banned on every single flight,

domestic and international.

So, we no longer have the lobster and champagne

served in flight,

but we also don't have constant vomiting.

Traveling by plane has always been a challenge

for parents with a baby.

Well, in the 1950s,

some airlines came up with a whole new idea to make flights

a little more comfortable for the whole family,

except, of course, the baby.

Early commercial flying isn't exactly kid-friendly.

I mean, there are no priority boardings,

there's no kids seating, there's no kids meals.

In the 1950s and '60s,

there was one innovation

to make traveling with babies easier.

That was the skycot.

The skycot was like this hammock construction

that you would hang from the overhead compartment,

and your baby would be in there

and could sleep and rock back and forth during the flight.

Skycots are used most often

on long international or transcontinental flights.

Sounds glamorous and elegant.

It's not so much in practice.

These skycots are not built into the plane.

I mean, they are precariously attached to the overhead space

by use of a couple of clamps.

I mean, it looks just right out of DIY.

As a parent who has had her children

sleeping across her on many long flights,

I do understand it might be nice

to have them suspended overhead,

but I think from a safety perspective,

it would actually be extremely stressful.

There are no restraints inside the cot,

there's exposed hardware,

and there are minimal structural supports.

So, when turbulence hits, watch out below.

Not only are they unsafe for the children,

but the passengers underneath have to be worried about this,

you know, this child falling on top of their heads.

You might not be surprised to learn the skycot

didn't stick around that long,

but for hands-off parents who needed to get their children

from one destination to another,

where there's a will, there's a way.

In 1913, the US Postal Service unveils the parcel post.

It is a service

for anything that exceeds the four-pound limit

that a normal letter must adhere to.

The new service is an instant hit.

Within the first six months,

the Post Office handles over 300 million parcels.

One day, a mailman in Ohio is making his rounds

when he is given a curious package to deliver.

It is an eight-month-old, 10-pound baby.

Now, technically,

there is nothing in the postal guidelines

that prohibits delivering a baby by mail.

The mailman pops the baby into his wagon

and delivers him safely to grandmother's house

just a couple miles down the road.

News of this unconventional

travel arrangement quickly spreads.

So this story made national headlines,

and you think it would've caused a backlash?

People would've said, "Oh, what horrible parents they are."

No, actually, it didn't.

If anything, it popularizes the practice,

and other families start saying,

"Hey, maybe I'll throw my kid in the mail, too."

When the parcel service limit

raises to 50 pounds,

even more parents take advantage of this human loophole.

One of the craziest stories happens in February 1914,

Charlotte Pierstorff of Iowa

is mailed to her grandmother's house over 73 miles away.

At 48.5 pounds,

she sneaks in just under the weight limit.

At 53 cents in postage,

she's a whole bunch cheaper than a rail ticket.

Young Charlotte was fine,

and there are no records of any kids

getting lost or damaged.

Even so, the US Postal Service at this point says,

"Look, enough is enough.

Stop sending your kids through the mail."

There's something so heartwarming

and wholesome about faith in kind of public services,

and also in community

that you could put your baby in the mail

and you trust it to make it to its destination.

Sending your kid off with the mailman?

Well, back then,

most people knew their mail carrier by name

and trusted them completely.

Remember watching "The Jetsons"

and loving the idea of flying cars?

That idea wasn't as farfetched as you might have imagined,

because years before,

the US military tried to make personal aircraft a reality.

In the 1950s,

the United States finds itself firmly ensconced

in the jet age.

So there's this fascination

among all these private companies

and inventors with creating flying machines.

And even the US Armed Forces gets involved.

The military did realize that smaller aircraft,

whether for reconnaissance mission rescue missions,

or even just to roll out telecommunications cable

on the battlefield would be essential.

Ultimately, the Navy and Hiller Aviation

create the XRQE-1,

affectionately known as the Rotor Cycle.

Okay, hold on tight, and away we go.

The manufacturer believes the device

will give America's Marines a new way to hit the enemy.

The rotor cycle is a miniaturized helicopter

weighing about 300 pounds.

There are two rotors, there's a tail boom,

and a small engine.

What was so remarkable about it

was that no tools were required to assemble it.

It was geared in such a way

that any soldier could put it together in under 10 minutes.

It can't carry much,

but it's an individualized aircraft

that is capable of moving that person over terrain

that would otherwise represent a barrier to progress,

and it does it in speeds approaching 70 miles an hour.

Bear in mind, traveling 70 miles an hour

in an open-cockpit vehicle is terrifying.

You can climb to 13,000 feet

and has a range of 155 miles without refueling.

Though the Rotor Cycle is supposed to be simple,

flying it is anything but.

This was geared towards a non-pilot pilot

that's very easy to get spatial disorientation,

unless you are at very low altitude.

If you're at a low altitude,

well, now, you're susceptible to ground fire.

And being that you don't have a fuselage

or, you know, a cockpit,

you could easily end up extremely dead.

It's a flop.

Only 12 units are constructed and none see active service.

The military along with Hiller

go back to the drawing board,

and they come up with the Flying Platform.

The Flying Platform is different than the Rotor Cycle

in that you're not hanging from a spinning propeller.

Instead, there are two fans that are producing lift

by pushing down,

and the soldier or marine inside

is being lifted off the ground from below.

The operator would have to generate a hover

using balance like you would riding a bicycle

or riding a skateboard.

Flying Platforms, right?

They sound amazing, but nothing ever works like it should.

The center of gravity's really high,

so if you go too much in one direction, you'll fall off.

Traditional aircraft have some countermeasure,

something in place if everything goes wrong.

The Flying Platform,

the best thing you can if it goes awry

is to put your head between your knees

and kiss your ass goodbye.

The military eventually scraps the project

because it's too hazardous for personal use,

and so civilians have to stick

with the safer alternative of commuter traffic.

People have always dreamt of different ways

to take flight,

and those small personal flying devices

didn't get up in the air,

there was a time when we made giants float above us.

The history of rigid airships

is a story full of excitement and adventure.

Today, when we think of blimps,

we picture them floating over sporting events.

But back in the day,

this was actually a sort of elevated form of travel.

They're like a vacation on their own,

and you've got private state rooms, bars,

gourmet restaurants, and you can't beat the view.

By 1914, blimp travel was here to stay.

A German company had done 1,500 flights,

they transported 10,000 people.

Airships are hailed as the future of travel.

In New York City buildings are designed

or modified to include airship docking stations

high above the streets.

Can you imagine this?

You're flying through the air,

you literally hook up at the top

of the Empire State Building,

and that's where you get out,

and then you go down from there,

and you're just in the middle of the city.

The idea of it is the most incredible thing.

There's only one small problem, the weather.

We had to contend with fog, rain,

zero visibility, high winds, thunderstorms, and sandstorms.

Airships are built

using a lightweight metallic alloy frame.

The frame is then covered by fabric.

They're not heavy, and the bigger you make it,

the more sensitive it is to wind.

Once you're up there and bad weather hits,

there's not much you can do.

Before long, there's a series of tragic airship crashes.

In 1928, there is an Italian airship

that's returning from an expedition to the North Pole.

It crashes, and eight people on board die.

Six are never found.

In 1930, British airship R101, on its maiden voyage,

crashes and kills 48 of the 54 people on board.

And three years later, the American USS Akron

crashes off the coast of New Jersey and kills 73 people.

Despite these accidents, in the 1930s,

passengers continue to take hundreds

of transcontinental flights.

One airship charges $450 per ticket,

more than $9,000 in today's money,

but that one airship is about to change everything.

The world had never seen an aircraft

as large as the famous Hindenburg.

It was the proud possessor

of nine successful transatlantic crossings.

The Hindenburg,

the biggest and most famous of airships at the time.

Airships can use as a means of generating lift,

either helium or hydrogen.

Helium is a safer way to go,

but helium is harder to extract and harder to get.

It is, therefore, more expensive.

Hydrogen is cheap and easy,

but it is very, very sensitive to sparks, it's flammable.

And because of that, the Hindenburg bursts into flames,

and the entire airship is consumed in about 35 seconds.

Oh, it's...

The flame's climbing.

Oh, it's four or 500 feet into the sky,

and there's smoke, and there's flames now,

and the frame is crashing to the ground.

Oh, the humanity,

and all the passengers screaming around here!

35 people are killed

and almost all the survivors

suffer from serious burns and injuries.

It just goes to show you

how quickly things can spiral out of control

when hydrogen ignites.

After the Hindenburg disaster,

it was pretty much the end of travel by airship.

Who remembers a time before seat belts,

when you were a kid bouncing around in the backseat

without a care in the world?

No one thought it was dangerous.

In fact, quite the opposite.

In early automobiles like the Ford Model T,

seat belts just don't exist

because they're not considered necessary.

The number one reason

is when cars first started being produced,

they weren't that fast.

So you think, "Oh, 20 miles an hour, I'm gonna be fine.

I don't need a seat belt."

Some people worry that seat belts are actually dangerous.

They're concerned they can trap you

in a burning or sinking car.

It isn't until 1949 that the Nash Motor Company

creates the first consumer automobile safety belt,

but it's not like our modern seat belts.

Think of it more as a lap belt

that you can tighten around your waist.

So if you pitch forward in an accident...

You can slam your head on the dashboard,

slam your head on the steering wheel.

So they're an improvement, but they're not that safe.

The Nash Company installs seat belts in 40,000 vehicles.

The buying public does not want them.

They're so distasteful to the public

that they actually ask their dealers to cut them off.

Safety, at this time, is not the priority.

What people want are fun, interesting,

cool things in their cars,

like front seats that convert into beds,

windshields you can pop out,

and steering wheels with two turning dials.

For generations,

lack of seat belts made for some crazy rides.

Before seat belt laws,

there were really no restrictions

on how many people you could put into a car.

I'm one of seven kids and the people next door had 17 kids,

and their dad would routinely pile us

into their station wagon to go get ice cream.

We counted once, we had 20 people

in his single station wagon going to get ice cream.

Not a single seat belt

and a lot of kids hanging out the back.

I'm only going a few miles.

Not me, I don't need them, I never had an accident.

It's too bulky.

It messes up the clothes.

As recently as the '80s,

only 14% of Americans

are actually wearing their seat belts.

Today, you have to wear seat belts, right?

You don't have a choice.

Like, they're giving you tickets for it.

Your car bleeps, and bleeps,

and screams at you until you put on.

That's what it takes to get people to put seat belts on.

You have to annoy them to it.

In 1982,

Michigan, home of the US auto industry,

becomes one of the first states

to try and pass a mandatory seat belt law.

The man behind it, Congressman David Hollister,

faces intense backlash.

He gets flooded with all kinds of hate mail,

people accusing him of being a socialist, a communist,

and even comparing him to Hitler.

Across the United States,

people take to the streets to protest seat belts.

To persuade people to buckle up,

the government gets help:

from a pair of dummies.

Even with air bags, Vince,

you still gotta remember to buckle your safety belt.

Now you tell me.

You could learn a lot from a dummy.

Buckle your safety belt.

And turns out, it worked.

The fun, accessible nature of the dummies

helps ease that transition into wearing a seat belt.

But you still remember those carefree days

when you didn't have to take such care.

Today, seat belt laws are in every state,

except New Hampshire,

but seat belts wouldn't have helped

when one company's quest to make the hottest car on the road

flamed out.

In the 1950s and 1960s,

American cars are all about style.

Classics like the Chevy Bel Air, Corvette,

the Ford Mustang pack these really powerful engines

into these just exquisite, beautiful designs.

That's why these cars are still collected today.

By the 1970s, rising oil prices

and environmental considerations

forced companies to pivot to more fuel-efficient cars.

And sadly, design took a beating.

It kind of changed the whole era of fast, sleek

to not a lot of horsepower, not as much performance.

Stretch out in an AMC Pacer,

the first wide small car.

Gone was the huge chrome accents

and the big chrome bumpers,

and cars got a lot more lightweight construction.

A little less flashy, except for one.

In 1984, Pontiac introduces the Fiero,

designed to be a practical car that still turns heads.

The Fiero is a two-seater mid-engine coupe.

Now, that's something America has never tried before.

I mean, the Pontiac Fiero is a good-looking car.

It's a tight little package, man.

Pontiac was really proud of the Fiero

and what they were doing.

In fact, Fiero in Italian means proud.

I'm sold on it, all I need is a dotted line.

The Fiero is chosen as the official pace car

for the Indy 500,

and they even sponsor a tour for Hall and Oats.

Pontiac has a smash hit on their hands.

More than 100,000 are sold in its first year,

but soon, the car's popularity goes up in smoke.

Reports of the Fiero catching on fire begin to mount.

These things would go down Highland Boulevard,

which is the main strip on Staten Island,

and the engine would burst into flames.

It seemed like just a few at first,

but then Autoweek said that they thought

it was a projected 20% of the vehicles made.

In 1984, those Fieros caught on fire.

That's a lot of cars.

It turns out,

in order to get the engine to fit into a very small frame,

sacrifices have to be made.

Their bright idea was to go down to three-quart oil pan,

instead of your typical four.

So, it's robbing the engine of oil.

When the car runs low on oil,

the engine's connecting rod can snap,

which punches a hole right through the engine block.

This leads to oil leaking out and catching fire.

Making matters worse,

the Fiero's plastic body panels are extremely flammable,

so they create these big intense flames.

You would think Pontiac would rush to fix the problem.

No.

In fact, a PR person for Pontiac blamed the drivers,

saying it is their responsibility to check the oil.

But in the '70s and '80s,

it was not uncommon to find out that a car had been recalled

or there were safety issues,

whether it was the Pacer, whether it was the Gremlin,

cars were flipping, and turning,

and stopping, and braking,

and yes, I guess, occasionally exploding.

Pontiac issues a sticker

that'll be put on these vehicles.

The sticker says for people

to literally check their oil every time they fill up.

Every time you fill up, you have to check your oil?

I'm not sure I want this vehicle.

Now, despite what Autoweek said, all in all,

there's really only about 300 fires that were reported,

although it is 300 more fires than should be happening,

that's for sure.

Eventually, with the numerous complaints rolling in,

in 1987, more than three years later,

they finally recall the 1984 Fiero.

Despite fixing the issues in later models,

the reputation is forever damaged.

1988 was the last year of production,

and they said it was because

there was increased competition, whatever,

but I think ultimately, it's 'cause people thought,

"These things are gonna catch on fire."

The Fiero is still remembered today

for its groundbreaking design,

even if it couldn't handle the heat.

At the turn of the 21st century,

Americans were sitting in highway traffic,

jam-packed in subway cars

craving a better way to get to work.

And one inventor got the country buzzing

with a way to revolutionize the urban commute.

Dean Kamen is a college dropout

who is a dreamer with a knack for engineering.

People say he is like equal parts Thomas Edison

and Willy Wonka.

Kamen patents a wheelchair called the iBOT.

It's a wheelchair that can tackle any terrain,

including stairways.

Transportation over various kinds of terrain

in an unusual motorized way is something that captivates him.

And he wants to change locomotion and transportation

as we know it.

When Kamen introduces his new invention in December 2001,

the whole country is watching.

Segway hits the market,

no one's ever seen it before, and it's highly anticipated.

The Segway is what's technically called

a self-balancing scooter.

It has a gyro within it that keeps it upright,

and any deviation in the angle of the platform

is what designates to the CPU how the Segway moves.

If I lean forward, I go fast;

and if I lean more forward, I go faster;

and if I lean back, I can slow down.

And it sort of had this little steering thing.

When the Segway is introduced,

it feels like it's everywhere.

Everybody's riding them:

celebrities, athletes, politicians.

Some people start doing Segway tours,

where you could tour around in a city

like New York or San Francisco.

And it became almost a ubiquitous item

in the arsenal of security companies

and police departments.

Time Magazine runs a cover story

with the title "Reinventing the Wheel."

They call it an engineering marvel.

There's just one problem.

No one really is sure how to ride a Segway.

I remember the first time I saw a Segway,

and I thought, "Ooh, I can't wait to ride that."

And then I rode a Segway and I thought, "This is weird."

Riding a Segway is incredibly unnerving

because our mobility systems

are not made for this mobility device.

Your inner ear is constantly giving you warnings

that you should not be standing up right now,

yet the machine is allowing you to.

People start buying these for themselves

and they start zipping around town.

So they're flying over sidewalks

or kind of hopping off curbs,

and that's when people start getting hit by cars.

Very quickly, we see how dangerous they actually are.

It's not just the riders that are in danger,

it's the pedestrians around the rider

because they would start weaving in and out of people.

It's like a game of "Frogger."

You are a foot up in the air

and you're doing 15 miles an hour.

The chances of getting hurt on a Segway

are actually far greater

than just being a pedestrian hit by a car.

In 2003, things go the wrong way for a Segway,

and they have to recall 6,000 individual units

because they are stopping suddenly

and causing the riders to fly over the handlebars.

It's exactly as bad as it sounds.

You can be cruising along at full speed,

and then all of a sudden,

you are catapulted over the handlebars.

The recall is only the beginning

of a string of damaging reports.

I think the accident report heard around the world

was when George W. Bush was riding a Segway

around the property in Kennebunkport,

and he has an accident.

Jamaican sprinter Usain Bolt,

the world's fastest man at the time,

gets run over by a Segway

when a cameraman who's trying to get pictures of him

runs him over.

The fastest man couldn't outrun a Segway.

The Segway does eventually become

kind of the butt of jokes.

I mean, it's made fun of in "The Simpsons,"

"Arrested Development,"

and in the movie "Paul Mall Cop."

Then something so ironic happens it sounds unreal.

In 2010, British millionaire Jimi Heselden,

who's just acquired the Segway company

a couple months before,

is out walking his dog and riding his Segway.

As a fellow dog owner approaches,

in order to give them some space,

he puts his Segway into reverse.

He proceeds to fall off a 40-foot cliff and die.

Finally, in 2020, Segway comes to the end of the road.

Ultimately, there is no demand,

and this thing that was once hailed

as a transportation game-changer

only sells 140,000 units in its entire shelf life.

The Segway's promise of a revolution fell short,

becoming more of a novelty than a necessity.

There was once a time when the fastest boats on the water

were powered by horses on treadmills.

That is until the steamboat arrived on the scene,

and these ships packed a lot more excitement

than you can imagine.

Steamboats are really a part of American culture

in the 19th century.

They're mentioned in songs, they're mentioned in plays,

Mark Twain references them.

This is seen as a hallmark of modernizing America.

And even Walt Disney takes as inspiration from steamboats

in creating the kind of beta version of "Mickey Mouse."

"Steamboat Willie."

These boats are very fancy.

People can enjoy dining, entertainment, gambling.

They're basically the 19th-century version

of the cruise ship.

Everybody loves to look at a steamboat

go by on a river, right?

There's this romantic vision of "Days Gone By."

But it's not all elegance and beauty on the Mississippi.

What makes steamboats such a game-changers

is the steam engine

that allows them to move in multiple directions.

The heart of the engine is the boiler

where the water gets turned into steam,

which becomes the power that that runs the ship.

On paper, it's a technological marvel.

But along with the power of the steam engine

comes a series of violent boiler explosions

that they can't, or won't, explain.

In general, there isn't much regulatory apparatus

for anything.

This is a time

when there weren't a lot of safety regulations

for things like travel.

Not to mention, for steamboat manufacturers and operators,

they wanna make as much money as possible,

so they are not especially interested

in managing the safety of their crew or their clients.

Boiler explosions occur

as a result of a number of factors:

poor material, low water levels.

It can also be the result of using river water in the boiler

because the river water will be dirty,

and it might even have debris in it

that will clog the system.

But something changes in April of 1838

after a steamboat named Moselle

explodes on the Ohio River near Cincinnati.

Witnesses on the scene

believe that the captain is attempting to put on a good show

for an assembled crowd that had come down to see Moselle.

The captain is also believed

to have been potentially racing another steamboat,

so as he pulls away from the shore,

he gives it the full juice.

And within seconds, 30 feet away from shore,

all four boilers suddenly explode.

The entire boat is destroyed, there's a lot of casualties.

Boiler debris and passengers

are scattered on both the Ohio

and the Kentucky side of the river,

which are a mile apart from one another.

Over 150 people are killed in this disaster,

but out of tragedy comes change.

Later that year, Congress finally passes a law

where they require boiler inspection

and qualified inspectors.

But the new regulations are hardly enforced.

Accidents keep happening,

and Americans still can't get enough.

So, even when they do know the risks,

they are lured in by the luxury and the speed.

Steamboats specifically had a period

where every third steamboat or whatever was just exploding.

And that's fascinating to me

that people got on the fifth steamboat.

Like, women, children,

men are getting shredded by these boilers exploding.

The clock is ticking on steamboats.

They just continue to be really unsafe.

But it's not regulations

that actually moves us on from the steamboat era.

It's innovation.

Railroads start to be the way

that more Americans are traveling.

Looking back at the ways we used to get around,

in noxious airplanes,

or in cars that would spontaneously combust,

or even sending our kids through the mail,

travel wasn't always the most dependable,

but it was the freedom of the open road, water, and sky

that made our hazardous history such an exciting journey.