Who cares about such matters, apart from bureaucrats? Well, as it turns out, a number of people. You don't say, "The Italian old beautiful car." But you no more make note of this chubby sans-serif typeface than you recognize that you place adjectives in front of a noun in a particular pattern. It's seeped into our unconscious by way of ubiquity, being the only approved font for road signage. But in one or another of its various versions (A, B, C, D, E, E Modified, and F, from narrowest to thickest), Highway Gothic has been the mother tongue of our vehicular lives. Unless you're a very particular kind of obsessive, you probably haven't noticed it. Enter Highway Gothic, officially known by the far sexier moniker of Federal Highway Administration (FHWA) StandÂard Alphabets for Traffic-Control Devices. As automobile speeds increased, the inconsistent legibility of this grab-bag approach proved, er, suboptimal. Way back before the 1950s-around the time Nissan launched the current GT-R-there was on the streets of this great nation a shameful hodgepodge of different highway sign colors, shapes, and fonts. Or did until a new font came along to steal the old font's job.
(Hint: It's the one I'm attempting to use in the writing of this column.) But on a federal level, there is only a currently dominant language. To the consternation of people who are about to write letters to the editor, allow me to point out that the United States has no official language.
From the August 2019 issue of Car and Driver.