with great power

The wind ripped through open windows, the highway roared in through vents beneath us like a heartbeat — steady, unchanging. My older cousin was driving, his younger brother up front. I was in the back, looking out the window at the blur of cars passing by. We were going fast — too fast. I knew it, in the way the car swayed at each turn and my stomach would drop whenever we sped past a slower vehicle. I should have said something. I couldn’t get the words out. I heard the sound of a semi-truck’s horn, and then the impact came, and the world spun, metal twisted and tires squealed.

By the time that the car crashed, shattered and twisted, on the verge of the road, we were very lucky to be alive.

That moment changed my life. My driving lesson quickly became a brutal, painful, true-life reminder that driving is not a game. I never want to feel that helpless again, watching my cousins being pulled away from this awful scene. I also began to understand the importance of driver education. It’s not just about learning how to drive. It’s about learning what it means to drive.

That experience made a lasting impression upon me and became my bogeyman, something that cast a shadow every time I got into a car. Perhaps most importantly of all, the accident taught me the importance of preparedness. I had felt pressure in my life before. In our house, pressure was part of every scene. There were times when I felt my body and mind being stretched so tightly that it was beyond my capacity to even breathe. But whenever the pressure became overwhelming, I didn’t quit. I kept striving, knowing that with every burst of stress I was becoming stronger.

The same goes for driving; the day on the freeway when I found myself in that car streaking down the highway, it’s not like my cousin was out there for the adrenaline, he was there to meet expectations, to be seen as in-control, and the pressure of the road, of having to make split-second decisions, was too much for him. If we’d all been more aware of the cost of driving at that speed, of focusing on staying calm and steady when under pressure, maybe we would have walked away fine that day.

Driving school teaches you exactly that: how to deal with the stress of driving. Yes, it teaches you how to maneuver a vehicle, but it’s also about when to brake, when to give way, when to anticipate. What I learnt in wrestling, football, and school was that, when the spotlight was on me, I needed to keep my grip on my technique, my form, and my own imagination. It’s the same when I’m at the wheel. Concentration, discipline, responsibility.

That collision with the semi-truck wasn’t the first time I’d witnessed dangerous driving, but it was the first time I truly realized the potential horror of it. I’ve ridden in cars where friends send texts while we drive or fly through an intersection just to make the light. I’ve seen family members run red lights on an expressway as if they can’t even fathom a worst-case scenario. None of those moments felt like reality the way that day on the highway did.

That’s what I think of whenever I get behind the wheel today. I think of the burden of this responsibility not only for those within my car, but also for everyone on the road. The responsibility of driver education is broad enough that it can teach this. It is inherently beyond the processing of the driving mechanics and it forces you to confront what you are actually doing. It is necessary to teach not only a 9-3 grip on the wheel but to offer a complete grip on the reality that there are lives that depend on how you drive.

As I reflected on that experience and on growing statistics about driving fatalities, I could not help but conclude that reducing driving-related deaths involve work at both the personal and the systemic level. Improving programmes for driving education is an important starting point. While it is important to drill new drivers on the basics of operational maneuvers, it is not enough to make them road safe. They need to learn what it is like to drive on real roads, and the dangers that velocity, distraction, and adverse weather conditions can pose. I believe simulated scenarios – essentially emerging young drivers being put into controlled environments to experience dealing with sudden hazards – could build this kind of experience without the bigger costs of real-life consequences.

Public campaigns can also take a central role. Billboards warn about texting while driving, yet messages such as these tend to blend into the white noise of everyday life. What we need are more people-centric – and emotional – campaigns: tales from the people whose lives were touched, even shattered, by such experiences drives home the statistics ever could.

Technology is also part of the solution. These days, most new vehicles are equipped with driver-assist technologies, such as lane departure warnings and automatic braking. These systems can be lifesavers, but they should never replace the fundamentals that every driver needs to know; technology is just a tool, and driver education is the foundation.

After that crash, I started to approach driving with an entirely new philosophy. Nearly everywhere I go now involves driving as a Texan, and I don’t treat it as a means to an end. I treat it as a duty. I don’t allow myself to be distracted by a phone call or foolishly fiddling with the radio. I’ve trained myself in the art of defensive driving, watching other drivers, guessing what they are going to do, and always being prepared to react to the unexpected. I do this because its not just my life on the line.

Being a safer driver means helping others drive safely as well. I talk to my friends about the hazards of speeding and driving while distracted, and I nag my family members when I think they’re taking a risk on the road. After what happened with my cousins, I realize that every decision I make behind the wheel can impact the lives of the people I care about.

What I learned that day on the highway surpassed anything I could ever have learned from a book or a classroom. That driving is about more than the rules; it’s about the care. We drive, each of us, every day, with hundreds of others. And each one has a story, a life. What happens in your car can change the stories of the others you share the road with. It can save the lives of those others.

Driver education is about showing us that this responsibility exists – and even after we drive away with a license, it’s a commitment we should uphold. When we shift our emphasis from a state-issued document to a lifelong commitment to safety, education, personal accountability and the tools at our disposal, we can do more to stop the unnecessary loss of lives behind the wheel, because with great power comes a great responsibility.