Driving Change

9:32 PM. That’s when the call came that changed everything. My grandmother, my rock, my guardian, the one who filled our house with French lullabies and taught me to love music, had been hit by a drunk driver going 75 mph in a 45-mph zone. I remember my dad’s voice cracking as he told us, his words barely audible over my pounding heart.

The hospital waiting room is seared into my memory: the harsh fluorescent lights that made everything look sickly pale, the rhythmic beeping of monitors from nearby rooms that seemed to mock any attempt at hope, and the squeak of nurses’ shoes on the linoleum floors. My dad and I sat in those hard plastic chairs all night, his hand gripping mine whenever a doctor walked past. The antiseptic smell burned my nose, mixing with the stale coffee from the nearby nurses’ station. We barely breathed, just waited, praying to hear if she would make it. She lost a lot of blood and needed hip-adjustment surgery, but the worst part wasn’t seeing her like that, it was knowing that this could have been prevented.

At the time, I didn’t fully understand the drinking and driving aspect. All I knew was that I was furious. As I got older and saw more news stories about drunk driving, that anger grew. I promised myself I would never put someone else’s life in danger the way that driver did to my grandmother.

That experience shaped how I approached driving. When I first got behind the wheel with my dad, I froze up. The fear of ending up like my grandmother was overwhelming. I was hyper-aware of every car around me, terrified of making even one wrong move. While my father’s reassurances helped calm me, I barely made it down the road before I wanted to turn back, the weight of fear still pressing down on me.

I remember sitting through my online driver’s ed course, headphones in, supposedly learning about proper turning techniques. But when I finally got behind the wheel for the first time, nothing had prepared me for the real experience. I wasn’t ready to merge onto a busy highway, nor to handle an aggressive driver tailgating me. The course didn’t teach me how to manage the surge of panic when a car suddenly cut in front of me. These were real situations that needed real practice, not just clicking through screens.

I believe driver’s ed should be more interactive, more of a coming-of-age experience that gradually eases young drivers into the harsh realities of the road. It should be a space where we can ask questions, practice real-life situations, and feel supported before facing a world full of semi-trucks, reckless drivers, and unpredictable road conditions.

Unfortunately, not everyone takes driving seriously. I used to hang out with people who drove recklessly: speeding, running red lights, even driving intoxicated. At first, I thought it was just “how people drove.” But one night, I was in the car with them on the highway when they hit 120 mph. My heart pounded as I screamed at them to slow down, begging them to let me out. When we stopped at the next light, I jumped out of the car and called my mom, crying, asking her to pick me up. I never spoke to those people again.

That moment made me realize how many people treat driving like a game. For some, their car feels like an extension of their home, and they feel safe, invincible inside it. But the reality is that one wrong move, or one split-second mistake, can end a life. Whether t’s yours or someone else’s, the consequences are irreversible.

I try to encourage those around me to be better drivers by reminding them that the road is a shared space. It’s not a playground for emotions or a place to test how fast you can push your speedometer. Simple changes like being mindful of speed limits, respecting others’ space, or focusing on the task at hand can make all the difference.

Now, I have a little sister who watches everything I do. Even though she’s young, I’ve already started teaching her about road safety. When we’re in the car together, I explain why I make certain decisions, why I always use my turn signal, why I leave extra space between cars when it’s raining, and why I turn down the music in heavy traffic. I plan to be her teacher when she starts learning to drive, passing on not just the technical skills, but the deep respect for road safety that I learned the hard way. Sometimes she rolls her eyes when I point out safe driving practices, but I know these lessons matter. After all, it only takes one moment, one poor decision, to change a family forever. I learned that at 9:32 PM on what started as an ordinary night.

I believe in a world where roads are safer, where drivers are more mindful, and where we treat driving with the seriousness it deserves. If we can shift our perspective and make driver’s education more engaging, create safer road conditions, and hold ourselves accountable. We can reduce the number of lives lost on the road every year. And maybe, fewer families will have to experience the fear and heartbreak that mine did.