A year ago, a portfolio could lead with finished screens and let them speak. Vibe coding ended that. When anyone can describe a half-formed idea and watch AI build it in an afternoon, a finished screen no longer proves anyone understood the problem, respected the design system, or checked whether the result was accessible. The output looks identical whether it took discipline or took a weekend. What that shift didn't change is the work underneath: the research, the standards, the verification, the judgment about what actually needs to be built. Those hold on every project, regardless of the business line, where it sits in its lifecycle, or what the business need happens to be. So this page doesn't show you screens. It shows you how I carry those fundamentals from a raw prompt to a live experience, on work that started exactly the way most work starts now.
THE PROBLEM
A modern long-haul truck already senses more than the person driving it. Radar reads the gap to the vehicle ahead through fog that blinds a human. Thermal cameras pick out a stalled car or a person on the shoulder in full dark. Collision and lane-keeping systems react faster than a driver who has been awake for ten hours. The hard engineering problem, teaching the truck to perceive the road, is largely solved.
Before I design anything, I have to be honest about what already exists, because a portfolio that invents a solved problem is selling fiction. The sensing layer is largely built, and much of it is already on the road, some of it required by law.
THE RESEARCH
A working sensor tells you what is on the road. It can't tell you who is behind the wheel at hour eleven, what a fleet is legally on the hook for when an alert gets missed, or whether the thing you built survives contact with a real driver. Those answers don't come from the hardware. They come from research: crash data, human-factors studies, the regulations that govern how long a person can legally drive. That work is what separates a design decision from a guess, and every choice in this project traces back to it. Three lenses, in the order I used them: the driver, the business, and the proof.
KNOW YOUR USER
Ray isn't a novice to be protected from the machine. He is an expert whose attention is a finite resource, spent down over a regulated eleven-hour window. The design has to account for a professional whose skill is real and whose alertness is not guaranteed.
Here is the insight that reframes everything. The better the automation performs, the worse the human gets at stepping back in. Skill you don't use decays. So the interface can't just work well; it has to keep Ray in the loop precisely because the system is good enough to let him drift out of it.
And the record lies about him. Fatigue barely registers in the official crash-cause data; inside real cabs it is everywhere the paperwork isn't. Design for the Ray the paperwork describes and you are designing for a driver who does not exist.
Grounded in Bainbridge, "Ironies of Automation" (1983); FMCSA Hours-of-Service rules; naturalistic fatigue prevalence from VTTI and FMCSA studies.
KNOW THE BUSINESS
A fleet doesn't buy a driver interface to be elegant. It buys down risk. Every decision on the screen sits inside a knot of forces that pull against each other, and the obvious solution usually serves one while quietly wrecking another.
Suppress every alert to keep drivers happy and you raise liability. Alarm on everything to cover the fleet legally and drivers mute the system, which is worse than no system at all. The design lives in the tension, not on either side of it.
And the reason this is worth money is measured, not assumed. On heavy trucks, forward collision warning and automatic emergency braking cut the specific rear-end crashes they target by 44% and 41%. That is the business case, in someone else's data, before I draw a single frame.
Framed against SAE J3016 (the industry's self-driving levels), IIHS effectiveness studies on heavy-truck FCW and AEB, and the NHTSA heavy-vehicle AEB rulemaking.
VERIFY
Everything above this line is built on published research. Federal crash data, naturalistic driving studies, human-factors literature, regulatory filings. That work is real, and it is enough to frame the problem and shape a first design. It is not enough to ship one.
Secondary research tells me what happened to drivers in aggregate. It cannot tell me what this fleet's safety director will tolerate in liability, what a dispatcher's schedule does to one route, or what Ray does with his hands in the ninety seconds after a false alarm. UX does not live in the aggregate. It lives in the person. Here is where secondary research ends, primary research begins, and what each method settles.
THE SOLUTION
Everything to here was the case for a design. This is the design. One frame: night, hour fourteen, a stopped vehicle ahead that the headlights have not reached but the radar has. It is the exact situation where a tired human and a confident machine either cooperate or kill someone.
The whole argument of this project is what the cab chooses to show, and everything it chooses to stay silent about.
The cab is dark on purpose. One hazard is lit, the stopped vehicle radar confirmed beyond the headlights, and nothing else competes for it. No reroute, no message, no second alarm. The takeover cue sits at stage one of three, a peripheral band, not a full-screen jump-scare, and the screen hands the call back: you decide. An ungoverned cab lights up everything and leaves a tired human to triage. This one triages first. The restraint is the design.
THE PROMPT
The image is the output. The prompt is the system behind it, and I wrote it as a design specification, not a loose visual description. Every section does a job. Role sets the kind of image. Scene fixes the context. Governing Principle protects the hierarchy. Focal Hazard names the one thing that earns attention. Constraints keep the model from adding noise.
The load-bearing decision is restraint. In a safety interface, every lit element competes for the driver's attention, so amber is rationed to the stopped vehicle and its alerts. One hazard is easy to read. A dashboard full of warnings is not. The phrase "You decide" does the same work in words: the system informs and supports, the driver still owns the action.
Image models struggle with small interface text, so the rendered labels are placement and intent, not final copy. I'd set the real UI text in Figma, where accessibility, content, and interaction are decisions, not a render. Concept exploration is one job. Human judgment on the details is another.
THE SOURCES
Every figure on this page is traceable. The labels are not decoration; they are the argument. One color does one job: yellow means a claim I have not yet validated, and everything neutral is established evidence.
NHTSA / FARS: 2022 large-truck fatality counts.
FMCSA: Large Truck Crash Causation Study (LTCCS); Hours-of-Service rules; night-crash data.
IIHS: Heavy-truck forward-collision-warning and AEB effectiveness studies.
NHTSA: Heavy-vehicle AEB rulemaking (projected crashes and lives).
VTTI: Naturalistic driving studies on fatigue prevalence and distraction risk.
Bainbridge, L. (1983): "Ironies of Automation," Automatica.
Strayer, D. et al. / AAA Foundation for Traffic Safety (2015): cognitive distraction Phase III; 27-second residual attention cost.
EU Regulation 2019/2144: General Safety Regulation, drowsiness and attention monitoring mandates.
Seeing Machines: Guardian commercial-fleet driver-monitoring deployment figures.
Mercedes-Benz Trucks eActros: Active Drive Assist, Active Brake Assist, Attention Assist specifications, referenced as shipping state of the art.
SAE J3016: levels of driving automation. WCAG 2.2: contrast and timing guidance.
Sources are named rather than linked because links rot. Every figure is traceable to the cited body of work.