Driving Change: Speaking Up for Safer Roads

Teen driver safety is not just a statistic—it’s a story many of us live through before we even realize it. And sometimes, it’s not the crash that changes you—it’s the decision to do the right thing when it would be easier not to.

It was the final semester of my undergraduate studies at Bakersfield College. I had commuted from Delano for nearly three years, sharing the road with drivers who were more interested in their phones or their egos than in safety. But one day, it became personal.

I had just parked for class when a student attempted to pull into the spot beside me. Misjudging her angle, she hit the rear of my car while I sat inside. We locked eyes. She didn’t say a word. She reversed and sped off, eventually parking far away, taking up two spaces carelessly, as if nothing had happened.

I got out, recorded her driving off, documented the damage, contacted campus security, my insurance, and the police. I was late to class, overwhelmed, and shaken. At first, I didn’t want to deal with it. But then I asked myself: What if she does this again? What if it’s worse next time?

I didn’t act because someone told me to—I acted because silence would’ve made me complicit. That moment reminded me that teen driver safety is not just about how well you handle a vehicle—it’s about how willing you are to take responsibility when it counts.

I’ve had to navigate much harder conversations off the road, within my own family. My father and sister have both received DUIs. It wasn’t because they’re reckless people—it was the product of poor decisions, social pressure, and a household culture where drinking is normalized. In my family, drinking is typical. And when you’re surrounded by it, saying no or stepping away becomes even harder. But if you’re going to drink, don’t drive home.

My sister now has her boyfriend drive her when she’s out drinking. She’s taken real steps. I’m proud of her. As for my dad, my siblings and I continue to have hard conversations with him: “We care about you. We worry about what this could mean—for you, and for the lives you might affect.” We’ve seen what happens when someone doesn’t take that responsibility seriously. It haunts us.

That’s why driver’s education must be more than just road signs and handbooks. It needs to encompass the emotional, social, and psychological aspects of being a teenage driver. How do you handle the pressure of drunk friends urging you to drive? What do you do when you’re afraid to report something that feels wrong? These aren’t hypotheticals. They’re lived experiences.

In my role as a Peer Assisted Learning (PAL) Leader for General Biology II, I mentored over 30 students across three semesters—many of whom were first-generation, like me. My role wasn’t just about academics—it was about building confidence. I learned to listen first, to validate uncertainty, and to create spaces where students could ask vulnerable questions. That same peer-driven model could transform how driver’s education works. Teens learn best from other teens—people who’ve lived through the same pressures and fears.

Living in a rural agricultural city like Delano, I’ve also seen how geography adds to the challenge. Long country roads, limited lighting, poor cell reception, and scarce public transportation mean that teens often drive farther, later, and under more risk. Many can’t afford professional lessons or advanced safety courses. We need to bridge that gap through subsidized programs, community carpooling, and driver’s ed integrated into schools, especially in areas where driving isn’t optional, it’s essential.

Imagine if high schools hosted honest conversations led by student mentors. Or offered interactive sessions with crash survivors, DUI victims, or law enforcement. What if every student had access to a free or subsidized driver’s education program, especially in low-income or rural areas like mine? Safety shouldn’t depend on ZIP codes.

But we can’t stop at policy—culture matters. As teens, we need to discuss this more openly. We need to normalize saying, “You’ve been drinking—give me your keys.” Or “Let’s call someone.” Or even, “I don’t feel safe.” These small moments are where real prevention begins.

The Driver Education Initiative Award supports students who see more than their future—it supports those who want to protect others’ futures, too. I’m not a perfect driver. But I am a responsible one. And I’m not afraid to speak up, even when it’s hard.

Because safety begins long before you turn the key—it starts with the courage to care.