When I was around the age of 13, we were all crammed into the family station wagon while on a long trip. This was back before the days of seatbelts, and so there were two kids and a baby lying in a made up bed in the back of the station wagon. My mother was smoking, and she had her window open (this was also before most cars had air conditioners). A big chunk of burning cigarette flew off and into the open back window, landing right near my baby brother's hand. He picked it up and put it in his mouth. Of course, my mother, being an unrepentant cigarette addict, blamed it on those of us in the back who weren't able to get to the ember before my brother did, rather than on her own filthy addiction. (The fact that she thought it reasonable to expect her children to pick up a piece of burning cigarette in our bare hands also ought to tell people something about the nature of cigarette addiction.)

I think it's a great law.