Freedom at the Cost of safety

From a young age, the idea of driving symbolized freedom and independence for me. However, as I grew older, I realized that driver education is crucial for ensuring that freedom does not come at the cost of safety. When I turned 13, the one thing I was most excited about was getting behind the wheel and driving. Although I had about three to four years left until I could officially drive as stated in Pennsylvania Driver laws, I couldn’t wait to have that sense of independence and be able to go wherever I wanted. I counted down the years until the day I finally turned 16 and could apply for my permit test. I constantly asked my mom when we could go down to the DMV and get my permit, marking my calendar on days when she was off so we could go. I studied constantly, even though people told me it would be a walk in the park. I was excited to be able to drive my sister and brother around and go to places like the movie theater and Dave and Busters with them.

However, about five weeks after I turned 16, everything changed. My dad invited me to a family reunion with his side of the family. Although I lived with my mom, I was very close with my dad. During the reunion, we reminisced about past memories, and the topic of my grandmother came up. I don’t remember much from my early childhood, but I do remember her vividly: her soft tone, the plane rides to Texas to visit her, and her overall motherly aura. I also remember when my dad broke the news to me that she had been in a tragic car crash with his seven-year-old brother and his stepdad. They all died in the crash.

I’ve never handled death well. I felt almost numb when my dad held me, crying. Although I don’t remember much about her, I often now look at her photos of us together and cry because I feel her presence so strongly around me. My aunt Leshia then went on to talk about other tragic car crashes in our family. It seemed like almost everyone had died in a terrible car wreck. Hearing this, I felt a sickly uncomfortable pit in my stomach, almost like a dreadful feeling.

After the reunion, I watched car crashes on YouTube for hours, feeling deeply sorry for the lives lost. I’ve always tried not to let fear control my life, but suddenly, I didn’t care much about getting my permit or taking my driving test. I stopped asking my mom, and it was soon forgotten. When I turned 17, my family constantly asked, “Danica, when are you going to start driving?” I would say, “Soon! I can’t wait to start driving, but I don’t ever have time to go down to the DMV to take my permit test,” and they would offer to take me. I always responded, “I just need to study a bit more.”

About a month later, my friend Eight offered me a car ride to work. We both work at Kennywood, and we figured I could save my $12 Uber fare if she gave me a ride. As I sat in the front seat with her, I watched how easily she drove and how it didn’t seem so bad. Seeing her, my age and driving, almost made me feel sorry for myself, like I was behind in life. I thought about my grandma, cousin, and grandpa, who were killed because of reckless driving by someone who decided to drive while intoxicated. I wondered how crash victims felt having to go back behind the wheel after their tragic accidents. The trauma must be potent.

I knew I could drive, but the fear of other drivers made me hesitant. Hearing about the tragic deaths in my family caused me to feel as though that could easily be me one day driving. There are rules and regulations to make driving safer, but people will always drive recklessly, even with safety measures in place. I could write a new set of rules that should be in place for drivers and say that if we did this, it would then be safe, but the reality is that no matter what rules are in place, someone will always break them. It took me a while to accept that, but I did. I will be taking my permit test a week from now. I won’t let fear stop me from living my life to the fullest. Because while I can’t control others’ actions, I can control mine.