Live to Drive Another Day

Warm, soft, marbled, gray-white sands, matte, from the shallow diamond clarity of the
calm tranquil waters that surround. The rich chocolate-brown tapa cloths, handmade from
stripped and beaten bark off the Kōwhaiwhai tree; lay in contrast on the coral rise, just above the
water. Our Waka-Ama (outrigger canoe) glides effortlessly though water, our father’s skillful
heeded words from warriors and chief’s past, followed, as we pull our previous cast nets up and
out of the sea. We’ve throngs of the strangest assortment of things, caught in our mesh-like trap.
Being only a boy of 12, thoughts of aliens and strangeness cloud my head. What could these
things be? And how did they exist on our earth. A smorgasbord of crab, kina, octopus,
and mussels dot the edges of our nets; the best hall of the day, the feast for our town.
Imagine what I’ve said, all of it a pristine picture of perfection and beauty, a picture to
which I have no words but one: Home.

Before coming to the states, this was the only kind of driving that I knew, and that was paddling. And what a daunting, eye-opening experience it was to step into a vehicle for the first time. Seeing cars swarming about like ants at war in LAX airport and accidents dotting the freeway the whole ride home made me think that I may never have a desire to drive in my short-lived life. But fast-forward to high school, I’m 15 years old and told that upon successful completion of my driver’s ed course, I would hold a valid driver license at age 16. As sure as the sun rising, breaking the mountain’s peak to the East, I got what was assured to me. From learners permit to driver license, the whole process of a simple test and passing of a course left me thinking: how is it this easy?

In New Zealand the process of getting what is called a full license is actually a years-long endeavor, begging at 16, and not ending until at the earliest age of 18. The first stage is what we call a learner license. You have to pass a road rules theory test and begin to practice to pass the next stage on, which is called a restricted license. This is where things get difficult. You need to pass a practical test, follow various rules and regulations and hold this for at least 18 months to gain enough experience to actually be deemed to hold a full license, which cannot even be applied to until you are a responsible 18-year-old adult. It is with this knowledge in mind that I have always been an extra cautious driver, knowing full well that there are 15-year-olds on the road, of which whom some can barely see over the steering wheel; and at the age of 19 the worst thing I could imagine happened: an accident.

I wasn’t even driving. A very lead-footed eager beaver gunned a yellow light as my mother was turning left. Instead of slowing and yielding to the yellow light, he accelerated and collided with us starboard side on, mid-turn. The impact destroyed the front-right’s entirety of our Honda Odessey, me along with it too. The culprit: a newly licensed driver at the tender age of 16. He had only just begun his driving journey as I was ending, what I believed to be, my life’s. I was rushed to the hospital, crumpled in state, like a crudely half-smashed can of soda. My face destroyed; unrecognizable and unreassuringly being told that I would be okay. Still having the ability to see out of my right eye, I saw desperation written across the paramedics’ faces. I knew I was done and thought I would be meeting my maker. But fate had other plans instore for me though. I had survived, knowing the journey to rehabilitation would be long and arduous.

I whole-heartedly believe that this accident could have been avoided in its’ entirety, only had our nation’s driver education program been different. We are far too lenient on what is taken as a rite of passage or guarantee, the privilege of being a licensed driver. Instead of allowing multiple retakes after failed attempts on an open-book test in the DLD or DMV, we should require like they do in New Zealand, a rebooking and new appointment and closed book test too. It baffles me that there is a lack of other tests required than just the one on offer. There should be stringent, rigorous, and practical courses/exams needed to be taken. A driver should have to also take a follow-up course so many years on down the road for a re-issue of a driver license. There should not be such an “easy button” option as online renewal for the sake of convenience. Negligence should not be rewarded, and I believe that is what was given to the driver who hit me. Nothing more than a slightly raised insurance premium was all that boy had to deal with, all the while my life nearly cheated from me due to a failure to adhere to something as simple as the driver’s handbook.

We all as drivers need to really think when sitting behind the wheel, before that key is turned and put into the ignition. Before we put our seatbelts on and adjust the rearview mirror. Before we choose a radio station, connect Bluetooth, plug in our phone, or that auxiliary chord. Long before we even unlock our car, get our keys off the hook, or out of a bag or purse; we need to take a moment and reflect on the fact that our privilege we have undertaken to drive, is in indeed actually just that: a privilege. One that should not be taken lightly, for it is us out there on the road who will ultimately be the one who is either in an accident, the cause of one, or; be you one of the luckies, who live to drive another day.