I know a few people who have been arrested for driving under the influence of alcohol. “Thank God,” you might say, “that those bastards were pulled off the streets before they could kill somebody.”

         You can well imagine that as the cold, sober morning light of reality filtered through the bars on their windows, these people rubbed their eyes and muttered to whomever was in the top bunk, “Thank God they got me before I killed somebody.” But in truth, they are unrepentant. They say that they weren’t all that drunk, that they were driving fine, and that they were only pulled over because of a burned out tail light or expired registration. Their blood alcohol levels ranged from .11 to just above the legal limit, which, as everybody knows, is .08.

         When we get down to it, many people’s attitude is that anyone who’s been drinking should be locked up, except them, because they (unlike those other bastards) know their limitations, regardless of the .08 cutoff line.

         What is this magic .08 number, anyway? Technically, that’s the percentage of your blood that’s pure, stinging alcohol. Just eight parts to a thousand. But what does it mean, really? What does .08 feel like?

         Say you’re on a dinner date. The wine has you feeling warm and the person sitting across from you seems a little more charming and a lot better looking. Is that .08? Or is it more like later, when your date’s shirt takes a direct hit from a forkful of marinara and you can’t stop laughing, even though it’s obviously going to cost you a second date? Or is it when you drop your keys trying to unlock the car, and then hit your head on the door while picking them up?

         Sober driving advocates of all stripes will say that it doesn’t matter. The slogan is “don’t drink and drive,” not “feel free to drive until you get up to .08.” Drinking, even a little, impairs your driving. .08 is where society has drawn the line. Crossing that line can mean losing a lot: Your license, your money, and the respect of people who regard drunk drivers just slightly higher than child molesters.

         Presumably, the magic .08 is the level where there is a clear loss of physical coordination, reaction time, and the ability to recognize that craving a donut from the bakery you just passed doesn’t warrant throwing your car into a 180 degree skidding turn on a crowded street.

         It’s said that blood alcohol levels are only a rough measure of impairment. One person at .08 may appear sloppy drunk while another appears ready and able to perform surgery.

         My presumption is that the sloppy drunk--the “lightweight,” or “cheap date,”--is the one who is the least used to drinking, while the surgeon type has learned to function with alcohol in his system. For this reason I’m especially reluctant to be on the road on major drinking holidays, when people who don’t normally drink much are driving down the freeway with their blinkers on. New Year’s Eve and St. Patrick’s Day are examples.

         “Don’t drink and drive” is a great concept that would surely save a lot of lives, but the fact is that a lot of people do it anyway, and they have to decide every time: How much is too much?

          If I feel okay after drinking a bit I’ll go ahead and drive. Like many people, I have in the past driven while way too drunk, and woke up thinking that I and everyone else on the road got lucky. That freaked me out, and I’m much more careful now. But am I careful enough, really? What am I to make of people who really believe they’re okay when I can see that they’re probably not? Am I like them, but unable to see it myself?

         This calls for experimentation. I’m going to come up with some measurements of alcohol impairment and test myself as I drink. And since more data gives better results, I’m planning to have a party in order to experiment on my friends. “Science wasn’t like this in high school,” they’ll say.

         In preparation, I’ve researched how police conduct roadside checks. I’ll try some of these techniques on my friends as the night wears on, keeping track of what they’ve consumed, how they feel, and how they perform. And, as it turns out, consumer grade breath testers are pretty reliable and cheap, so I bought one. They’re harder to find than you might expect. I inquired about them at a few stores, and got some guilty-by-association looks, as if I were asking about extra small condoms or books about puppy torture. Eventually I found one at Sharper Image for $99, but since it’s for this story I can write it off. Hell, I can write off the whole party.

         In my next column, I’ll share the results. In the meantime, I’ll assume it’s still bad to drink and drive, and I hope you’ll do the same.