Tyler

“When I was fourteen, my brother Tyler was killed by a drunk driver.”

“He was seventeen, less than six months from graduation, and on his way home from work at the local hardware store. The driver who hit him was also a teenager, someone from his school, a face I recognized from the yearbook. He had been at a party, made a reckless decision to drive while intoxicated, and in one moment, everything changed. For my brother, for our family, and for me.”

This is what I heard from a drivers education instructor on my first day of class. It was meant to get our attention, to shock us into caring on a Monday morning– and it worked. But as he talked, I became more and more convinced: Tyler didn’t actually exist. He was just a character meant to scare us into paying attention.

Every day, we pay a monumental price for our lack of safety while driving. We pay it with the blood and loss of our family and friends. Every year, we lose thousands of teenagers in crashes that could have been prevented. For my family, that statistic became a reality. Yet when you’ve experienced that kind of loss, statistics cease to mean anything. It’s personal and permanent, but it’s something we can change.

Driver’s education plays a crucial role in prevention, more than memorizing traffic laws or logging hours behind the wheel. True driver’s education prepares teens to think critically, act responsibly, and understand the weight of the responsibility they take on every time they turn the ignition. I firmly believe that a more emotionally grounded, story-based approach to education could make a significant difference. If more young drivers heard stories (like the alleged story of Tyler), maybe they’d hesitate before drinking, speeding, or picking up the phone while driving.

Teen drivers face several unique challenges, most of which have less to do with technical skill and more to do with judgment, distractions, and social pressure. Today’s teens are growing up in a world saturated with digital stimulation. Phones and social media make it easy to look away from the road. Even passengers can be a distraction; friends may pressure drivers to take risks, drive faster, or ignore safety for “coolness.”

“But no amount of popularity is worth a life,” my instructor continued, “That’s a lesson I had to learn the hard way. I remember the silence in our house the day after Tyler died. I remember the half-finished math homework on his desk. I remember my parents — normally so strong — completely shattered. He had dreams of becoming an architect. He used to design imaginary houses in his sketchbook and show them to me. None of that will happen now. One choice took it all away.”

So how do we change things?

For teens, the most important action is committing to safe habits every time they drive — not just when someone’s watching. That means turning off the phone, limiting passengers for the first year or two, and refusing to drive under the influence or ride with someone who has. I believe peer-to-peer accountability can be powerful. For example, “safe driving contracts” signed among friend groups can create a shared sense of responsibility and set clear expectations. Teens can also use apps that block notifications while driving or send automatic replies — small tools that make a big difference.

In schools, driver’s education should be more immersive and emotionally engaging. Incorporating guest speakers, such as crash survivors, EMTs, or families like mine, can humanize the lessons. Students need to understand the weight behind every statistic. Schools can also partner with local law enforcement or hospitals to conduct simulation activities, such as impaired driving obstacle courses with goggles, to show students just how impaired their reactions become under the influence.

Schools should also integrate safe driving education into broader wellness programs. Just as we talk about mental health, bullying, and substance abuse, we need to talk about cars — because the leading cause of death for teens deserves just as much attention.

In communities, access and accountability are key. Communities can promote safer driving by offering safe ride programs after school dances or games through rideshare apps or parent volunteers who agree to be on call. Local governments can support campaigns like “Drive Sober or Get Pulled Over,” and expand them to include teen-specific messaging. Additionally, hosting annual teen safe driving weeks, with activities, contests, and real-life stories, can reinforce good habits in a positive, empowering way.

One powerful idea I’d love to see more of is youth advisory boards for city traffic and safety departments. I’d like to see teens offering feedback on what would actually help them drive more safely. They could help shape policies like curfews, passenger limits, or signage placement in school zones. Too often, decisions about teen safety are made without teens at the table.

Parents also play a vital role. They should model good behavior, such as always wearing seatbelts, staying off the phone, and never driving impaired.

I was nearly eighteen years old by the time I got my license. I am a naturally cautious person, and hearing so many stories from my parents about accidents made me terrified. In my fear, I decided to look up Tyler, to see if the story was true. I found something much worse.

It turns out, this driving instructor did have a brother named Tyler. Sure enough, Tyler died at age seventeen, six months from graduating high school. But he didn’t die in a car crash. He killed himself. Five of his closest friends got in a car accident on the way back from a party. Tyler was forbidden from going by his mom, who didn’t trust his friends to drive him. His mom was right. After the next day at school, Tyler came home and ended his life.

Hearing the story of Tyler, and the much more horrific truth, instilled a great fear for driving in me. It made me cautious, fearful even. I don’t take driving lightly, because I know what’s at stake. I know how quickly everything can change. And I know that what feels like a small choice can be the difference between getting home safe and not getting home at all.

Now, I may have taken this as a bit of a creative writing assignment. None of this actually happened. There is no Tyler. I don’t even have any older siblings. But I still believe what I’ve said. Poor teen driving is an overlooked issue. Every teenager deserves to live, and nothing can change that.