Mr. Claypool is a wheelchair user and a policy director for the Community Living Policy Center at the University of California, San Francisco.

Lianna and Jessica Oddi of The Disabled Life. A blog about two sisters documenting the jerks and perks of living life with a disability.

When I bought my most recent car — a 2014 Chrysler Town and Country —the salesman walked me through the list of available upgrades. I could get a leather interior and heated seats without a problem, but there was one glaring oversight: accessibility. As a wheelchair user, I’ve found that no major automaker offers an accessible vehicle as standard. For this recent purchase, I had to pay more than $25,000 — on top of the car’s list price — for features like hand controls, a ramp and locks for my chair.

[A man in a wheelchair is meeting with the financing woman at a vehicle accessible conversion shop. The sign above her desk reads "Adapt Auto we make some vehicles accessible." The man asks "So after the floor drop, adding in the removable seats, and putting in a ramp, how much will that cost me?". The woman is smiling, and responds "Your entire life savings Sir... glad we could help!] So after the floor drop, adding in the removable seats, and putting in a ramp, how much will that cost me? Your entire life savings Sir... glad we could help! So after the floor drop, adding in the removable seats, and putting in a ramp, how much will that cost me? Your entire life savings Sir... glad we could help!

This month marked the 28th anniversary of the passage of the Americans With Disabilities Act. For those of us who had endured exclusion because of a disability, that moment in 1990 felt like the arrival of a long-delayed justice. But despite the power of that landmark legislation, and the profound benefits it has delivered, remnants of exclusion remain stubbornly in place.

Millions of people with disabilities or restricted mobility still struggle to find reliable and affordable transportation options that empower them to lead active, independent lives. Roughly four million Americans depend on wheelchairs and 11 million more use a cane, walker or crutches (estimates in a new unpublished study bring the numbers to 5.7 million and 15.7 million, respectively), but the ability to afford and drive a motor vehicle has historically been out of reach for far too many.

With the development of autonomous vehicles, a better day is in sight. Once the stuff of the imagination, this innovation is now a reality: Self-driving cars are here. Now, as the vehicle design and development continues, the entire industry has a rare opportunity to create a cutting-edge product that can be used by everyone, including wheelchair users, without the unfair and exorbitant cost and effort now required for customization. Automakers should seize that opportunity.

To their credit, most car companies recognize the potential of fully self-driving car technology for the disability community. They have at least said as much. Toyota even designed a “concept car” in 2017 and hosted a meeting last month with disability groups to discuss accessibility. Yet what we’ve seen from most automakers so far is a contradiction.

[The scene is located inside a car dealership. Over the back desk is a sign reading "Cars for Sale". There are balloons in the background. A woman in a wheelchair is talking with a car salesman about the NEW self driving car. The woman is looking perplexed at the car and asks the salesman "So is there a different model I can test drive? Because I don't see a ramp on this one." The salesman looks puzzled and responds "Uh... ramp?"] So is there a different model I can test drive? Because I don’t see a ramp on this one. Uh... ramp? So is there a different model I can test drive? Because I don’t see a ramp on this one Uh... ramp? So is there a different model I can test drive? Because I don’t see a ramp on this one Uh... ramp?

Take, for example, G.M.’s recently shared vision for autonomous vehicles: “Whatever our physical capabilities, we have the freedom to go wherever we want to go.” Yet the company’s new self-driving concept car, the Cruise Bolt, which is designed without a steering wheel and pedal, also appears to lack any accessibility features for people using wheelchairs.

Ford, which similarly extols how “autonomous vehicles will open up opportunities” for people with disabilities, announced plans to release a vehicle without a steering wheel or pedals, but makes no mention of whether this vehicle will be accessible to wheelchair users.

At best, these supposedly futuristic vehicles lack an appreciation for the need of those who rely on wheelchairs. At worst, they continue the auto industry’s legacy of exclusion.

This does not have to be the case. Since autonomous vehicles will not have traditional pedals, there will be no need to add hand controls for acceleration and braking. And manufacturing wheelchair-accessible autonomous vehicles should cost less than retrofitting conventional vehicles. Without the need for a human driver, the interior of these vehicles can be rethought to accommodate anyone, regardless of ability.

Of course, self-driving vehicles are not the answer to all the accessibility woes. Needs of the disability community are diverse, but why wouldn’t we seize the opportunity presented by self-driving vehicles to explore universal design principles? According to the Brookings Institution, investors have sunk at least $80 billion into developing autonomous vehicles as of last year. As the industry matures, the primary obstacles to wide adoption of these vehicles are regulatory and political. Automakers know that people with disabilities will be important beneficiaries of driverless innovations. But without a mass-produced vehicle designed with universal accessibility features, history will repeat itself and millions will be cut out from the new innovation.

[An older couple are driving down a high way in their self driving car, with a scooter poorly tied up behind the car with rope and dragging behind them. The spouse (not shown in the passenger seats) asks "Honey, check if my scooter's okay." An elderly gentlemen, seen sticking his head outside the vehicle to look, responds "Yep! It’s still there!"] Honey is my scooter ok? Yep! It’s still there! Honey is my scooter ok? Yep! It’s still there! Honey is my scooter ok? Yep! It’s still there!

To meet the challenge and keep the promises enshrined in the Americans With Disabilities Act, automakers must make accessibility integral to the design of self-driving cars. The people who stand to benefit most from this innovation need to be heard.

Automakers should sit down at the table with disability advocates, engineers, designers, transportation planners, transit agencies, policymakers and other stakeholders, so we can use our collective passions and brainpower to address this vital issue. We know that these companies have at their disposal the talent and the resources to change the future of mobility, and we challenge them to partner with people with disabilities, whose lives and livelihoods are at stake, and hold themselves accountable to the goals they have set.

If automakers can shake off the exclusionary thinking of the past, and rise to meet this challenge, they can deliver on the true potential of self-driving cars — to benefit all people, not just those who can get around without a wheelchair.

Henry Claypool, formerly principal deputy administrator of the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services’ Administration for Community Living, is policy director for the Community Living Policy Center at the University of California, San Francisco.