In September 2023, on a straight stretch of Minnesota highway, Samantha Jo Petersen’s vehicle slammed into an Amish buggy. Accident reconstructionists believe she was driving between 63-71 MPH in a 55 mph zone. And when the dust settled, two children, ages 7 and 11, were pronounced dead, and two others critically injured. Petersen was high on methamphetamine at the time of the crash.

The buggy, a symbol of a simpler time and way of life, a symbol of their commitment to home and faith, disintegrated on impact.

Sadly, this isn’t an isolated tragedy. In fact, it’s part of a disturbing trend accelerating across America’s heartland.

The Numbers Don’t Lie

While much of America debates autonomous vehicles and traffic cameras, a quieter crisis is unfolding on rural roads where horse-drawn buggies moving around 5-10 mph, share pavement with distracted drivers piloting two-ton SUVs at 60 mph.

The statistics are pretty sobering:

  • Ohio: Over 120 buggy accidents annually
  • Pennsylvania: More than 630 accidents in the past decade, concentrated in Lancaster County
  • Michigan: 261 crashes from 2016 to 2023, resulting in 18 deaths
  • New York: At least 22 collisions in the North Country region from 2017-2019 alone

There are several theories as to why more accidents are taking place. For starters, the Amish population is growing faster than the general population, which means more buggies on roads designed solely for modern traffic. This as well as other factors, create conditions for a collision course (literally) between two worlds operating at vastly different speeds and capabilities.

What emerges from all of this, is that the pursuit of the simple Amish way of life, unencumbered by the trappings of modern day, is not only delicate, but not at all as simple as one may think.

Why This Keeps Happening

When you dig into the causes, you’ll quickly find that this isn’t just about slow-moving buggies on busy roads.

The Psychology of Not Seeing

Here’s something that should terrify every driver: most Amish buggy accidents happen in broad daylight on straight sections of highway. How is that possible?

Researchers have identified a phenomenon called “inattentional blindness” or “perceptual blindness.” Drivers’ brains, calibrated to identify threats moving at modern speeds, simply do not register slow-moving black buggies as dangers. So yes, your eyes see them, but your brain filters them out as irrelevant background information until it’s too late.

Add to this the reckless behavior we see repeatedly in crash reports: motorists making careless passes with poor sight lines, drivers misinterpreting buggy turn signals, and a disturbing number of DUI incidents involving vehicles that strike buggies.

The Visibility Problem

Some conservative Amish communities refuse to use electric lights on their buggies, relying instead on reflectors and lanterns. It’s a matter of religious principle, but it creates a safety nightmare. When a black buggy travels at 5-10 mph on a rural road at dusk, reflectors alone are not enough for a distracted driver to react in time.

Sunlight, fog, hills, all very real issues that cause visibility issues as the driver of a motor vehicle, let alone a buggy.

The Structural Reality

When a modern vehicle (made of metal, fiberglass, etc.) hits an Amish buggy, (made of lightweight materials and wood, sometimes metal and fiberglass, depending on the community and their rules) at speed, the buggy essentially disintegrates. It’s constructed by hand, not assembly line, and engineered to very different standards.

As described by a Amish enthusiast:

Everett Burkholder, an Old Order Mennonite buggy maker in Dayton, Virginia, talked to me for a long time about the craft of buggy making when I visited him a decade or so ago.  He has been making buggies for almost 50 years, and some of the first buggies he made can still be found on the roads. If taken care of, well-crafted buggy can last many decades.

A lot of engineering goes into a buggy, and interestingly, he told me that a good buggy maker will make a buggy so that it collapses upon impact in a crash. He says that you want to be thrown if you’re in a buggy crash, unlike in a car crash where being thrown is the last thing you want. If you are riding a buggy and a 2-ton car smashes into you, being thrown is probably your best hope for survival. Otherwise, you’ll get smashed by the car. If you were belted into the buggy, you wouldn’t stand a chance. So the buggy is designed to splinter and eject and throw the passenger and driver, hopefully into some soft grass. 

There are no seatbelts, no airbags, no crumple zones, no structural components designed to absorb impact. The occupants are utterly vulnerable and at significant risk of serious harm and death in the event of an accident.

All of this becomes yet another facet of the problem; one where faith, modernity, and medicine create additional complications for those involved.

The Medical Paradox

When disaster strikes, Amish victims face a uniquely difficult choice: they must either accept modern medical interventions that may conflict with their beliefs, or risk death by refusing them outright.

The Amish relationship with modern medicine is more nuanced than many realize. While they generally avoid technology in daily life, most Amish communities do permit flying in emergencies, which most often means helicopter airlifts to trauma centers after serious accidents. The Amish community isn’t likely to object to an airlift if it could save someone’s life.

But it’s not universal. Some Amish groups object to helicopter transfers if they feel it causes a loss of control or if the mode of transport itself is objectionable on religious grounds. In truth, members of the Amish community often advocate for more freedom in these kinds of situations, to include when to go to a hospital, means of transportation, and what medical interventions will be used.

In practice, the Amish do not hesitate to seek professional medical help in urgent life or death situations. What’s trickier and troublesome, is how they’ll afford it. The Amish typically do not have modern health or auto insurance, opting for collaborative funding models; think GoFundMe without the technology. Of course this creates yet another layer of complexity. Community members can potentially arrange for non-Amish drivers to provide swift transport. Additionally, they may refuse treatments if they are expensive, don’t align with their beliefs, or merely prolong suffering. There’s a cultural preference for yielding the ill to God’s will while continuing with alternative treatments.

It’s a delicate balance between faith and survival, played out in emergency rooms across rural America. And before the ordeal is over, the ER is not the only modern system the Amish will encounter.

Forgiveness and The Concept of Justice

Here’s where the Amish perspective truly challenges our conventional understanding of justice.

The Amish faith is grounded in Jesus’s teachings to love enemies, reject revenge, and leave vengeance in God’s hands. When Samantha Jo Petersen was sentenced to four years in prison for the deaths she caused while high on meth, written statements from the four children’s parents were read to the court. While the specific content wasn’t disclosed, Amish theology suggests they likely expressed forgiveness.

The Amish operate on what scholars call “two kingdom theology.” They believe it’s their responsibility to forgive and not hold grudges, and that it’s up to the police and justice system to deal with punishment. Even in cases of profound, radical forgiveness, like after the 2006 West Nickel Mines school shooting where an Amish community famously forgave the gunman, the Amish are clear that forgiveness doesn’t free offenders from punishment, nor does forgiveness mean someone will be free from consequences.

The community extends forgiveness only after offenders show sincere effort to change. They prefer forgiveness and reconciliation over punishment and “justice”, but they do not obstruct prosecution. Amish individuals are subject to the same federal, state, and local laws as any other American.

It’s a paradox that confounds our retributive justice system: families who have lost children to reckless drivers often choose not to pursue vengeance in court.

The Impossible Choice

And so we’re left with yet another impossible choice: how do we protect a community that chooses vulnerability as a matter of faith?

Legislative solutions have been proposed: designated buggy lanes, enhanced reflector requirements, public awareness campaigns. But each solution runs up against either practical limitations (rural counties can’t afford to put in dedicated lanes) or religious objections (mandated electric lights may be rejected by conservative communities, as we saw in Ohio).

Some people argue the Amish should adapt or stay off public roads. But the roads were there before cars, and the Amish have as much right to use them as anyone else. The burden shouldn’t fall solely on victims to protect themselves from negligent drivers.

Others insist on stricter penalties for drivers who strike buggies. But the Amish themselves often do not approve of or demand such measures, complicating the political will to enact them.

The Answer Isn’t Simple — But It Isn’t Neutral Either

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: there is no single fix, and pretending there is lets systems off the hook.

Yes, inattentive and distracted driving on either side of the equation can play a role. So do weather conditions, glare, depth perception, time of day, and the way the human brain misjudges speed and distance, especially when fast-moving vehicles encounter something slow and unexpected. Negligence exists too: speeding, impairment, passing on curves.

But we’re missing one key point here. One where listing variables can become a way of avoiding underlying responsibility.

We’ve built a transportation system that assumes constant vigilance, perfect judgment, and zero mistakes. And then we act surprised when ordinary human error turns deadly. Reflectors, lights, and warnings help, but they cannot overcome physics, speed differentials, or distraction in a system designed to move vehicles quickly rather than protect vulnerable lives.

Distracted driving matters. Drunk driving matters. Attention matters.

What doesn’t work is pretending attention is enough. Because even careful drivers make mistakes. Even sober drivers miss things. Even responsible people are human and systems that require perfection to prevent death are not safe systems.

So yes, drivers should pay attention. But the deeper question isn’t whether people are trying hard enough. It’s why we continue to accept environments where a momentary lapse — a glance, a glare, a misjudgment — can erase an entire family’s future.

The Amish will continue to forgive. They will continue to accept helicopter rides when faith permits and survival demands. They will continue to appear in court not seeking vengeance, but because the law requires it.

The question isn’t whether they will adapt.

The question is whether the rest of us will stop calling preventable harm “unfortunate” and start demanding systems and infrastructures that do not rely solely on perfection to keep people alive before the next quiet afternoon ends in sirens and silence.


References

Accident Statistics:

Crash Causes and Driver Behavior:

Minnesota Criminal Case (Samantha Jo Petersen):

Amish Medical Beliefs and Emergency Care:

Amish Forgiveness and Criminal Justice: