Name: Regan Coffey
From: Springfield, OH
Votes: 42
To me, impaired driving means any time someone gets behind the wheel without being fully
present- physically, mentally, or emotionally. It’s not just about being drunk or high. It’s about anything that clouds your judgment or slows your reaction time. It’s when confidence replaces caution, when distractions replace focus, and when people think, “It won’t happen to me.” I think that’s why it’s so misunderstood, even by people who have completed driver’s education or traffic school. We all know impaired driving is dangerous, but too many people believe they’re the exception. They think they can handle one drink, drive tired “just this once,” or glance at their phone for a few seconds. It’s human nature to underestimate risk, until that risk becomes real.
When I was fifteen, I learned that lesson in the hardest way possible. Four of my friends died
in three separate car accidents that were all caused by impaired driving. Drugs and alcohol
were involved in every one. I remember sitting in my room after the last funeral, trying to make sense of it. These were good kids- funny, kind, full of life. But they made choices that cost them everything. They thought they were fine to drive, or that nothing bad would happen. That kind of thinking doesn’t come from ignorance, it comes from denial. Most of us are taught the dangers of impaired driving, but too few of us truly believe it can touch our lives until it does.
Those losses completely changed how I view driving. At that age, I hadn’t even started driving
yet, but when I did years later, I carried those memories with me every time I got behind the wheel. I realized that impaired driving doesn’t just ruin one life, it shatters families, friendships, and
entire communities. It’s never just “a bad decision.” It’s a chain reaction of consequences that
can’t be undone.
Years later, I found myself in my own accident. I rear-ended a car that had stopped suddenly in
the middle of a busy road. When the police arrived, I learned the driver was underage and had
been smoking marijuana while driving. Thankfully, no one was seriously injured, but the crash shook me to my core. I had spent years being cautious, doing everything “right,” and yet someone else’s impaired driving still put me in danger. That moment drove home what I’d already learned from losing my friends- your safety on the road depends not only on your own actions, but on everyone else’s too.
Impairment comes in many forms, and it’s more common than most people think. Alcohol and
drugs are obvious dangers, but texting, fatigue, and emotional stress are just as harmful. I’ve
seen people drive while crying after an argument or scrolling through their phones at stoplights. Those distractions may seem small, but they slow your reflexes, cloud your focus, and take your attention away from what really matters; getting home safely. It doesn’t take much to cross that line between “fine” and “impaired.”
Driver’s education and traffic safety courses have the power to change that mindset, but only if
they connect emotionally, not just factually. Most young drivers know the rules. They’ve
memorized blood alcohol limits and watched the demonstration videos, but what sticks with
them are stories. Real faces, real families, real consequences. When students hear from people
who’ve lost loved ones or survived impaired driving accidents, the message hits differently. I
think those programs should spend more time on real-world examples, peer discussions, and
even interactive simulations that show how delayed your reaction time becomes under the
influence or while distracted. When students feel the danger instead of just hearing about it, it
changes how they think.
For me, my driver’s education experience was solid, but it wasn’t personal until it became my
reality. If those stories had been shared earlier, if we had seen what I later saw firsthand, maybe some of my friends would still be alive. Education is powerful, but empathy is transformative. When you understand how someone’s life can change in seconds, you start to make different choices. That’s why I believe driver’s education should be as much about perspective as it is about practice.
Personally, I try to take what I’ve learned and use it to make others safer, too. I’ve become the friend who speaks up. If someone offers to drive after drinking or gets distracted behind the wheel, I say something. It’s not always easy, but I know what’s at stake. I also encourage people around me, especially younger drivers, to set boundaries before they ever start their car. Put your phone on “Do Not Disturb,” plan a safe ride if you’re going out, and never assume you’re okay to drive if there’s any doubt. Those tiny moments of responsibility can save lives.As I work toward becoming a nurse, my awareness of impaired driving has only grown stronger. I’ve seen how one accident can fill a hospital room with pain, physical, emotional, and spiritual. It’s a reminder that prevention is part of healing, too. My goal is to keep using my voice, both personally and professionally, to educate others about the importance of making safe, conscious choices behind the wheel. Sometimes that means sharing my story; sometimes it’s just leading by example.
Impaired driving took people I loved far too soon, and it could have taken me, too. But instead
of letting those experiences break me, I’ve let them shape me. I’ve learned that being a safe
driver isn’t just about following laws, it’s about valuing life, both your own and everyone
else’s. I can’t control what other drivers do, but I can control how I drive, how I respond, and
how I influence others.
Because the truth is, every one of us is “in the driver’s seat” when it comes to change. And if
sharing what I’ve learned helps even one person think twice before driving impaired, then those lessons, and those losses, will have meaning beyond tragedy.
