When the Audi 5000 story ("I was pressing the brake as hard as I could and the car hurtled demonically through a playground full of orphans and right into a nunnery!") hit 60 Minutes back in the day, I demonstrated its basic fallacy to friends by climbing behind the wheel of my Dodge Coronet, pointing right into the apartment, and flooring the gas pedal with the brakes pressed to the floor. The Mopar V-8, which had a starter motor more potent than the Audi five-banger, was easily held stationary by the pathetic drum brakes that possessed a mere fraction of the braking power provided by the 4-wheel discs on the Kraut sedan.
If I’d screwed up behind the wheel, I’d like to think I'd have the integrity to admit it, rather than go play “pin-the-tail-on-the-scapegoat”, which the owner of this ‘96 Camry, (equipped with neither ECB nor ECT,) is obviously trying to do.
I’m sure he’s found a lawyer who doesn’t know a master cylinder from a throttle position sensor to take his case, though.
(H/T to Unc.)