How old is too old to drive?

                 In a heartbreaking courtroom scene, Harold Horowitz turned to the family of his victim and apologized for the series of events that ended in death for Eric Hammer last October.
                Oct. 1, 2012, was a Monday.  It was about 10 p.m. Horowitz left a senior center in Warminster.  Without reaizing he was headed the wrong way, he turned right on St. David's Avenue and headed across the westbound lanes of busy Street Road.  Hammer, 27, riding westbound on his motorcycle, was unable to avoid Horowitz's Toyota, and crashed into the passenger side.  Hammer, the father of two young children, was killed. 
                Horowitz was charged with involuntary manslaughter.  Judge Rufe sentenced him to eight years probation and revoked his driving privileges.
                Horowitz told Hammer's loved ones:  "That I should wind up, at my age, with this awfulness, devastates me."
                Horowitz's age: 85.  So here's the issue:  At what age should we surrender driving privileges?
                It is an uncomfortable question, especially since boomers retire by the millions every year.  In the suburbs, surrendering your license means becoming dependent on others after a lifetime of driving freedom.  It is a tough transition.
               The older person is almost always the last to realize how age has diminished driving skills, said Angela Foreshaw, spokeswoman for AARP's safe driving program.  AARP offers refresher courses to make older drivers aware of how age affects reflexes and eyesight.
               "But it's really up to family members to ask is my mom or dad really safe to drive?  Then convince them to stay off the roads if they pose a danger," she said.
               The symptoms of deteriorating driving skills are well known.  Frequent close calls.  Ticking off other drivers.  Getting lost in familiar neighborhoods.  In the last six months, I have encountered all three.
               Two weeks ago on the Levittown Parkway, an older woman made a sudden, reckless left turn from the right lane, nearly causing me to hit her with my car.
               On Bristol-Oxford Valley Road, I was two cars behind an older man who refused to travel much more than 25 mph on the two-lane road, where the posted speed is 40 mph.  The driver of the first car behind the older man flashed her headlights and honked her horn.  At the next to the slow driver, who appeared to be about 90.  He was pale and held the wheel with a death grip.
               Last winter, on a weeknight, our doorbell rang.  We didn't know the woman standing there.  She appeared to be in her 80's.  She was upset.  She told me she had gone out for milk, and was lost.  She chose our house at random, she said.  I assumed her confusion was due to unfamiliarity with Levittown's winding streets.
               But her address was only a few blocks away, and she told my wife and me that she had lived there for decades.  She blamed the early darkness for her confussion.
              My wife took me aside and insisted I take our car and escort the woman to her home.  When I offered to do this, the embrassed woman insisted she could drive herself, and left.
             When will this woman realize her driving days are probably over?  How often do these things happen every day? 
             Another sign of deteriorating driving skills:  unexplained dents and scratches on an older driver's car.
             Ten days after Harold Horowitz struck and killed Eric Hammer, police in Evesham, N.J., pulled over an 81-year-old man whose car had a shattered windshield, blood and hair on it.  The man said he hit "something," but couldn't remember what or where.
             Despite a massive search, police have never found who the man struck.
             Once we turn 50, driving skills diminish.  Refresher courses in defensive driving are a great idea.  It might save someone's life, or prevent this sad anecdote.
             Eric Hammer's fiancee, Aileen Scharle, with whom he has a son, 5, and a daughter, 2, told Judge Rufe that her daughter still waits for her father to come home.