I have them and I feel good about it.
I live in the mountains, so I drive a lot in the mountains. I love my 1,950 foot lbs. of torque, and even more, my engine brakes.
It's common for me to be in the middle of a long line of truckers running 3 mph slower than what I want to travel. I am unable to pass them until they start up the next incline, but when they do, I put the hammer down.
They are slowing down as we go up the mountain and I'm accelerating at max speed. I start to pass them one-by-one, and I'm neck and neck with the lead truck when we crest the top of the mountain.
I'm hauling the mail, but I know I have to continue the gain to stay ahead of the lead truck as we start down the other side. If I don't, I'll have to decelerate to let them all by, and take my place at the rear of the group.
And it's at this time when I wonder what kind of mess I'm going to make when my 55K lb. RV crashes and disintegrates on the way down the hill.
So while my mind is calculating a million scenarios per second, I gather a bit of comfort knowing that a blowout on the front has been thoroughly thought through and that I stand a reasonable chance of survival if I lose a tire.
But that's just me.