On The Fast track

Trevor Scott is on his way to work. He has dark brown hair, got a clean shave yesterday, and dressed for a suit and tie event that might just land him a promotion. At 7:30 he gets into his 2010 Honda Accord. He brought it used off of a dealer when his wife got pregnant with their first child. Now, 14 years later, he has four beautiful and healthy children that he loves dearly. He kisses his wife goodbye, hops in the car, and turns the ignition. It starts with a rumble, and as he backs down the driveway, his kids wave to him with their backpacks on, the youngest, Lucy, smiling the biggest smile. “Good luck at work Daddy!”

Trevor smiles to himself, levels out, and presses the gas. He takes the usual route to work, jumping on the highway to get there exactly five minutes before the office opens. The sun isn’t shining, but it’s not quite overcast either. He looks in his mirror, puts his left blinker on, and starts to move into the left lane.

25 minutes later, the phone rings at the Scott residence. The time is 7:55 am, right when Trevor’s wife, Veronica, expects him to get to work. The kids are on the bus and she’s about to head to her job as a nurse at the local hospital. It rings three times before she answers it. And when she does, she lets it fall to the floor.

You see, Trevor Scott, at only 35 years old, is dead. When he started to move into that left lane, a car sped up and crashed into the driver side door, killing him instantly. Maybe he didn’t feel pain. Maybe he did, in his final moments. He left behind a wife, four kids, and a promising career. Why? The easy answer would be to say I don’t know. But this could have been prevented if that driver who had crashed into him hadn’t sped up when Trevor was merging. And when police question that driver who crashed into Trevor’s Accord, he said this: “I was on my phone.”

There are a lot of Trevor’s all over the United States. You’ve probably heard it before. Maybe you know a friend who knows someone that was in an accident, or you’ve experienced it yourself. But each year since 1975 according to NHTSA, on average more than 36,000 people die of car related accidents a year. And in 2022, about 46,000 died. Add that up, and you know what you get? More than 1.692 million deaths over 47 years, 1975-2022. 1,692,000 deaths taking the base of 36,000 and multiplying it by 47 years. That number, realistically speaking, is probably over 2,000,000.

What can we do to lower this number? How do we even go about it? The simple answer would be to educate. We have programs that are educating new drivers, students, about the rules of the road. I learned to start stopping 50 ft before a stop sign, look both ways before making a turn, and keep a following distance behind the car in front of you. If I hadn’t taken the class, I don’t know if I wouldn’t have known any of that. I remember in my Driver’s Ed. class, my teacher kept stressing the point of awareness. It got to the point where she stressed it so much that I became desensitized to it. That is, until I sat behind a wheel with the knowledge that this just got real. And on the highway, I remember passing an accident where the car’s entire front bumper was totaled. I remember thinking to myself, What if that was me?

But these accidents happen because people are distracted with something, anything. It could be as simple as checking a text message on the phone, or drinking too much beer at the bar with the buds. Yet it only takes that one moment to, just one, to end a life. So put your phone away when you drive, turn it off if you must. And please don’t drink and drive. You never know if you can end it for someone else, or even yourself.

I know there are some people who might read this, and nod their heads and agree with me. And the next day, the phone will buzz when they’re driving. They ignore it once, then twice, and then the third time they glance down, reaching their hand across and clicking on the bubble notification. Then bam. An ambulance arrives, police cars, flashing lights light up the sky. And your parent’s, your wife, your children will get the phone call they’re least expecting. Don’t let Veronica raise her children alone. Or have Lucy and her siblings grow up without a Dad. Keep your eyes on the road, and remember that getting behind the wheel means you’ve accepted the responsibility of driving. And you might not get the chance to say, “Hey, it wasn’t my fault.”

Don’t do it. Don’t text, don’t call, don’t drink. Help make the roads a safer place, for all of us.