A WEEKEND jaunt south of the Border felt like a trip back in time when Google Maps warned me that the most efficient driving route, taking three hours and five minutes, involved tolls. A toll-free alternative route was offered, but this would add 22 minutes to my journey. Toll-paying it was to be, then. What a novelty!

As I approached the Tyne Tunnel, I kept my wits about me. Presumably, the traffic would soon start slowing as we approached the toll booths. I assumed cards would be accepted, but I had my trusty bag of change in the glove box, just in case.

“Pay online by midnight tomorrow”, instructed a road sign. My brain had not processed what this might mean until I passed another saying the same thing. I was still trying to keep all my focus straight ahead, watching for the brake lights of the cars in front.

But we didn’t need to stop. The barriers were permanently up. Big Brother was watching, and would soon be holding out his palm while meaningfully tapping his watch.

Once I had emerged from the other side, the cogs of my brain cranked up again, and I realised this system must use number plate recognition and be linked to the DVLA database. I didn’t actually know what the toll was, so I had unwittingly entered into a contract without even glancing at the terms. In fact, I realised that I didn’t even know who I was meant to pay.

On arrival at my hotel, I Googled “Tyne Tunnel toll”, but when I tried to pay with my credit card, an error message appeared: “This card can’t be verified right now”. I hoped this was merely a blip due to the weak signal in my hotel room, so sought out the WiFi password.

I was starting to worry that my mini-break was to be dominated by jumping through hoops to avoid a fine. Cinderella at least got a nice frock and fitted in some top-quality flirtation before her deadline – all I’d enjoyed was about two minutes of gloomy driving at 30mph in a slightly bamboozled mental state.

I couldn’t help but wonder what those without smartphones were supposed to do. There’s an automated payment line, but how might a visitor without internet access look up the number? Those without a credit or debit card would surely also be in a pickle.

The TT2 website advised me that it’s possible to pay by cash at a “PayPoint” and that there is one of these just 300 metres from the tunnel, but I hadn’t seen any signs for it. A BBC News story from January – headlined “Tyne Tunnel toll payment instructions signs ‘useless’” – shows the yellow roads signs that were in place at that time, bearing an 0191 number that drivers were presumably supposed to commit to memory while on the move. What a mess.

READ MORE: Rishi Sunak's honeymoon period with the public is well and truly over

The more I considered the implications of this system, the more relieved I felt about the 2008 scrapping of tolls for roads and bridges in Scotland ... and the more concerned I became about the rumours they are set to return.

The Sunday Times claimed in February that Scottish Government ministers regard the reintroduction of tolls as inevitable due to pressure around climate-change targets. The logic goes that because driving is cheaper than public transport, the costs of driving on routes served by public transport should be increased. Another way to achieve the same outcome would, of course, be to reduce the costs of public transport.

Leaving aside both the environmental and economic arguments for and against tolls, there is surely something very concerning about systems that rely on routinely scanning and recording the journeys of thousands of people per day and make payment by cash difficult. It’s safe to assume that if Scotland was to reintroduce tolls in the near future, this kind of “smart” technology would be used.

In 2016, the Independent Transport Commission, a rather grandly named think-thank, examined public attitudes towards paying for road use. Its report states that “there is a lack of understanding of the potential of real-time information and smart technology to help in making choices but when these are outlined there is increased concern about privacy in the context of naivety about the extent to which this is already happening”.

The suggestion seems to be that because these naive research participants don’t realise how little privacy they already have, their views on one more invasion shouldn’t count for much.

I’m sure most people are well aware of the extent of existing CCTV networks and the digital trails they leave behind when they choose to use all sorts of apps, including the one that guided me through the Tyne Tunnel. But just because people like me are willing to trade privacy for convenience on a case-by-case basis, that doesn’t mean mandatory tracking for everyone is no big deal.

On the long drive home, I had time to think about the unintentional harms that could result from these types of tolling systems, and, indeed, from the creep – accelerated by Covid – towards mandatory phone/app payment for parking.

A woman can choose to leave her phone and credit card at home to avoid surveillance by a controlling partner, but it becomes much more difficult to stay off-grid if simply driving or parking becomes impossible without technological intrusion. How many people have shared family log-ins for the likes of Ringo or the Tyne Tunnel’s toll payment website?

The consistently patronising tone of the Independent Transport Commission’s report inspired me to look up its funding sources. Imagine my surprise to find Siemens Mobility, which boasts “the broadest end-to-end portfolio of intelligent traffic management solutions in the UK market”, listed among its corporate donors.

Maybe those research participants weren’t so naive after all.