Lessons I’ve Learned from a Chronic Text and Driver

I love listening to music in the car. I love the feeling of a gentle breeze rustling my hair as Fleetwood Mac’s Sara tangos with my eardrums, pouring contentment and joy into my heart until it reaches the brim. I love the highs and lows of the pitch that complement the vehicle’s careful curvature of a winding road. I love listening to beautiful voices narrate my journey, sprinkling even more life into the vibrant, shifting world around me. The story it tells, it makes me think to myself “wherever we’re going can wait. I want to live in this moment.” And I do–I want to sink into the growing music; I want to revel in what passes by as we travel down the road.

However, when I’m riding with my cousin, I turn the music down and turn my attention to her up a notch. I cannot afford for the both of us to be distracted.

My cousin is a chronic text and driver. Don’t get me wrong, she is a good woman who has molded me, my sisters, and my friends in a number of positive ways, but this is a flaw that has the potential to become fatal. I do not know what it is about it, but the same rush I get from listening to music in the car must be what she feels with one hand on the wheel, one thumb vigorously smashing the keys, and both eyes looking away from the road. It’s a frightening and uncomfortable circumstance to be sitting in the passenger seat when you feel as if you’re the only one eyeing oncoming cars, red lights, and stop signs, and an overwhelming force of anxiety slams into me when I yell “Watch out!” and her eyes jerk up as she slams on the brakes, narrowly avoiding an unexpecting driver. Although a narrow collision will prompt her to focus on the road, a sudden buzz of her phone will lure her back in as the initial wave of fear and shock washes over her.

Sometimes, my cousin will be upset with my warnings. She believes that her five year experience as a licensed driver permits her actions, or at least makes me–who recently passed their drivers exam–unqualified to tell her otherwise. However, when I see my little sister in the backseat, playing with her toys and safe from a potential threat, I know that I was right to warn her. Safety is most important, always. Numerous opportunities to text will pass you by, but the people you care about only get one life. You only get one life.

I only get one life, and texting and driving isn’t worth giving it up. Although I cannot control my cousin’s actions, I can control what happens when I am behind the wheel to keep myself, and those I am trusted with transporting, safe. Thus, there are three primary steps I take to make sure my vehicle is a distraction-free environment:

1. The first thing I do when I get into my car is lock my phone into my hands-free phone mount. This allows me to use google maps as safely as possible, preventing me from looking down at my lap to understand where I am going. Additionally, it eliminates any temptations to use my phone for entertainment that physical contact might bring.

2. The next thing I do is silence my notifications. I refuse to let the buzz sound that breaks my cousin’s concentration break mine.

3. Lastly, I keep the volume of my music to a minimum. Admittedly, this is the most difficult for me, but nothing is worth putting my life in danger, not even the warm feeling of Fleetwood Mac merging with my soul. Although I am pretty comfortable with blasting music in my headphones while riding with a safe driver, I know that music can be highly distracting when watching the road and listening for emergency vehicles. By keeping the tunes low, I simultaneously stay alert and enjoy the stories that artists whisper in my ear.

I am rarely ever the person driving my cousin around, but when I am, I try to set as good of an example as possible (even though I am the younger one). If my example can inspire her, even for just a moment, to set her phone down and focus on the road, I will know I have done good. As for myself, each time I arrive at my destination safely is a reminder of the importance of distraction-free driving. I appreciate the ability to listen to music in the car, but I appreciate my safety more.