One Second

When I was 18, I got my first license. As a high school senior, I had seen and heard about the dangers of a new phenomenon that had taken the lives of many fellow classmates during my high school years: texting and driving. This phenomenon seemed odd to me, as not only did I not have a cell phone, but the idea of taking my eyes off the road for a second while driving a half ton machine going upwards of 45 miles per hour on the main road outside of the school seemed like one of the worst things you could do. Therefore, I prided myself on never taking my eyes off the road, and even more so turning off my cell phone, which I had acquired during the summer before my first attempt at college, and stowing it away in the glove box, while driving. This habit of mine ensured that I would never be in an accident and gave me the feeling of being invincible. “Why would I ever be in an accident if I never even look at my phone while driving?”

Eventually this thought process started to give way to some tolerance towards my phone being on during driving, just on silent. Then, I started using my phone to listen to music while driving. I would have to occasionally pause the music or skip a track, which required me to glance at my phone. I would always do my best to ensure that the way was clear and that I would only spend one second to look at my phone and use it. One second to change the song that was playing. Only one, then, to almost end my life forever.

It was the week before I was to attend my first day at the school of my dreams, Florida State University. Not only was I excited to be attending a public university, but I felt like my life was finally on track towards becoming a life worth living. In the intervening years since I last had dropped out of college and re-enrolled at Tallahassee Community College was when I began my habit of listening to music through my phone while driving. This gradual easing of my own rules towards using my phone while driving was never the issue if I almost got into an accident, so I thought it would be okay on this rainy day too, driving on the interstate towards Chik-Fil-A to meet with a friend for celebratory school kickoff lunch. A song had come on that I had already heard a lot before, so I wanted to skip it. I grabbed my phone and press skipped to play another. In less time than it took for me to press skip, suddenly I was spinning out of control, my tires squealing, and my phone flew across the car. I hit the guard rail before bouncing off of it, spinning more, and hitting an SUV. After bouncing off this SUV, a semi stormed passed with horn blaring. I skid across the dividing wall between the opposite driving lane and mine, finally coming to a rest in the swampy grass between the road and the wall. I screamed, the reality of what had just happened finally becoming apparent. I unfastened my seatbelt and opened my door, the rain pouring down like shocked tears on my face. The lady driving the SUV, now out of her vehicle as well, shouted out in shock towards me, “You could have killed me!” I slumped to the ground. I could have killed her. That semi almost did kill us. I looked up and blurted out an apology that felt hollower than the front of my vehicle, which had ejected almost the entirety of its contents out across the road and surrounding area “I’m sorry.”

My notion of invincibility while driving had not just dented like the side of the SUV I hit, not just shattered like the windshield of my car, but I felt as if the guilt of driving while distracted would break every bone in my body. That, or my neck, which felt almost as bad as when I had nearly broken it as a child. I called my friend, somehow locating my phone in the wreck. Lunch would have to wait. After that, I called 911. Then, I called my parents. The weight of telling them I had not only crashed, but was at fault, could have torn my heart into two at that moment. Then, there was silence, or at least what felt like silence, as I could not care to hear the world around me in my shame. I could have, in that moment, destroyed my phone. That thought made me angry, as it was my stupid phone that had distracted me enough to almost kill myself and another driver. I really considered destroying my phone myself in that moment, but had no strength to do anything besides cry and wait for judgment.

This judgment did come, but it felt light compared to the possibilities of that crash going a little worse. No one was severely injured or killed, I had done minor damage to the guard rail I bounced off of, and the SUV only sustained minor damage. My car was the only thing that was totaled; my neck the only injury to persons involved. I received a fine, and my insurance had to adjust to this at fault accident.

It has been several years since that accident. My neck still no longer has the complete painlessness that moving it once afforded. Sudden onset of rain while driving occasionally causes me to hyperventilate, and any sort of skid or slide on wet roads has a chance to send me into a panic. Beyond the loss of my sense of invincibility, these are the scars that one second of distracted driving afforded me. To say I was lucky feels foolish, but still haunts me regardless. There is no luck when it comes to distracted driving, and my only hope about writing this essay is the hope that I will continue to never let my phone be a larger priority than the road. It only took one second for it to change my life; one second earlier or later, and I might not have one.