Notification, Swerve, and Crash

I wish driving was as simple as stopping, accelerating, and turning. That’s the way it should be and the way I wish it would be. I am a new driver. Got my licence in 2024 and have been driving for a year now. And to be honest, it’s sad that I have already seen so many impaired drivers on my way to class. I often have to wake up at 5 AM to reach my 6:30 weekend sessions. Sometimes I lie in bed, dreading the drive, wondering if I’m going to get sideswiped on the freeway before sunrise. From what I’ve seen, impaired driving is something people dismiss. Too many drivers laugh it off, saying things like, “Oh, I’m a good driver, I can drive drunk.” That statement makes my stomach twist because your ego should never get in the way of safety. Impaired driving is putting innocent families in danger. kids with futures, parents with responsibilities, people with dreams. It’s the most selfish thing someone can do on the road. It doesn’t just risk your own life. It gambles with the lives and futures of thousands.

When I think about “impaired driving,” it means more than just alcohol. To me, impairment is anything that clouds your judgement or slows your reaction. It’s whatever takes you away from the moment you’re in, the second you need to brake, the glance you should’ve made, the turn you missed because your mind was elsewhere. People misunderstand it because they don’t want to see themselves as the problem. They think impairment only applies to someone stumbling drunk out of a bar. But it’s more than that. It’s the exhaustion of staying up too late, the buzz from a joint, the text message you think you can sneak in. Driver’s ed might tell us the rules, but rules don’t always change how people see themselves. Too many people believe they’re the exception, and that belief is exactly what makes them dangerous.

The most common impairments I notice now are phones and fatigue. I see drivers with their heads down, lit up by their screens, scrolling or typing as if the road isn’t flying pas them. I see drowsy commuters slouched at the wheel, eyes blinking too slow, drifting just enough to make my chest tighten. Alcohol and drugs still play their part, but distractions and fatigue are the modern epidemic. Each one changes the way a driver sees, thinks, and reacts. And that tiny delay when someone isn’t fully present can be the moment that ends everything. Unsafe behaviour doesn’t start with bad intent; it starts with someone thinking they can handle it. And too often, they can’t.

I haven’t had a personal crash like the one in the story I read, but I did have a moment that stuck with me. One morning on the freeway, a car drifted into my lane. I swerved hard, my heart pounding. When I pulled even with them, I saw why, they were holding a phone, thumbs flying across the screen. I couldn’t stop thinking about how easily that could’ve been the end of me. That image changed the way I treat my own phone. Now, I throw it on the passenger seat and leave it there, no matter how tempting it is to look. That one driver showed me how fast everything can go wrong, and I decided I don’t want to be the reason someone else feels what I felt that morning.

That’s why I think traffic schools need to do more than repeat rules. Rules are easy to ignore. Reality isn’t. The most powerful lessons come when people feel the human cost. Not just a slide with numbers, but hearing from families who lost someone, from survivors whose lives are permanently changed. That’s what makes it real. A strong programme shouldn’t just teach the “how” of driving it should teach the “why.” Why distraction kills. Why fatigue matters. Why impairment is selfish. Because when people understand what’s truly at stake, they begin to drive differently.

I know that I can take some action too. I can say something. When one of my friends picks up a phone, I’ll offer to text them. If I’m a passenger and see something risky, I won’t just sit back and watch. I also remind my parents to drive safe when they go out. They are all small things, but they matter. Because a second, a decision, and one selfish decision can take it away. And if I am able to keep at least one person from becoming a statistic by what I know, I feel like I did something. Safe driving is not about being perfect, it is about caring enough to make a better choice – every time.