From the Rubble

Hope can seem fleeting when what you so desperately desire drifts from your grasp. Growing up in the low-income neighborhoods of east San Diego, money was something we did not have much of. I started working at 15 years old so that I could pay for food to take to school, as well as save up for my first car. I worked the closing shift at a local party supply store, where I learned to be a cashier, manage inventory, and clean the store. At 17 years old, I had earned just enough to purchase an incredibly old Honda that I used to go to and from work and school. I felt liberated. Having the freedom to go to a football game or even go out to eat was a positive opportunity for me, and it made the intensity of high school and working long hours seem less daunting.

One night, I was heading home from work, taking my usual way home on the side streets, as I was still a new driver. I was traveling through a solid green light and the opposing side of the street had a left turn yield light to yield to oncoming traffic, where my vehicle was traveling. Suddenly, a large van pulled out in front of me, failing to yield to oncoming traffic. With almost no time to brake, my sedan struck the van’s side and destroyed my car. Airbags deployed, and what felt like an eternity ensued before the noise subsided. Ash and smoke filled the cabin of my car and a boost of adrenaline washed over me. I knew I had to get out, now. The ensuing fire was large, and smoke filled the air. I was dripping blood, but the pain had not yet set in. I sprang from my vehicle and sprawled on the sidewalk as I watched my first car wither away. Sitting on the curb, I wept. I wept for the severity of the situation, the loss of my first car, and the cruelty that unfolded before me. As I watched the car succumb to flames, I was carted away in an ambulance and hospitalized for severe burns, whiplash, and trauma to the head and other extremities. The other driver was unharmed.

I spent most of the evening being treated for burns, which were excruciating. I was eventually released from the hospital with a neck brace and was told to rest for the near future. When I returned home that night, rest was the last thing on my mind. How could this happen to me? I worked day and night for that car, and now it sat crushed and burnt to rubble in an impound lot because of someone else’s mistake. I felt like I had just been robbed of everything I worked for. More importantly, I had been robbed of peace of mind as a new driver.

We came to find out that the driver of the at-fault vehicle was drinking on the night of the accident and tried to assign fault to me. Law enforcement quickly dismissed their lies as they investigated and determined that the driver’s story couldn’t be true, based on the sequence of lights at the scene. What can never be forgotten is the mental anguish and the scars of going through a traumatic event such as this, and it took months before I even thought about driving again. I still feel uneasy when passing by the street of the accident.

Once I started driving again, I learned how important safe and sober driving truly is. Even the smallest bit of impairment creates a risk to other drivers. This woman had nearly taken my life at just 17 years old. Not only was she drinking, but she tried to assign fault to a teenager who was on their way home from work. Safe driving is the most important defense we can have as young adults, especially when accident rates are at an all-time high. Texting, eating, and talking on the phone, are all simple things that get overlooked when we’re driving but can contribute to a potentially deadly situation. The woman who hit me was leaving a wedding and had a few drinks but didn’t think of the consequences of those drinks until it was too late. We must be aware of the things that consume our attention and our sobriety when we’re driving because nothing is more important than our attention on the road. The scars and mental imagery from the accident will never go away. It’s still a struggle to drive to the scene of that accident. I always wonder what could have been if the driver had just taken the time to pay her attention to the road instead of those few, stupid drinks.