Staying Alive at 65 (MPH)

Let me keep it real: when I first got behind the wheel, I felt like I was in a Fast & Furious audition. The music was up, seat tilted back, one hand on the wheel like I invented driving. I thought I was invincible. But reality hits different when you’re looking at brake lights too late, or worse, hearing about someone who didn’t make it home. That’s when I learned that teen driver safety isn’t just another school assembly topic; it’s a public issue with real, sometimes tragic consequences.

Teen drivers are statistically among the most dangerous behind the wheel, not because we don’t care, but because we’re still learning how to make decisions under pressure. We’re new to the road, eager to prove ourselves, and easily influenced by the chaos around us—music, phones, backseat passengers acting wild. Driver’s education plays a key role in slowing us down, not just physically but mentally. It gives us a chance to learn the rules before the mistakes, and to build habits that feel like second nature. Without proper education, too many of us end up learning through crashes, near misses, and citations.

Distractions are enemy number one. It’s not just texting, it’s GPS directions, Instagram notifications, or changing the playlist to set the vibe. Distractions are everywhere, and we underestimate how fast things can go wrong. I remember riding with a friend who glanced down for “just a sec” to change the song. We drifted lanes and got honked at so loud we all jumped. We laughed it off then, but now I realize how close we came to a real problem. Teens don’t need a lecture; we need relatable stories and real talk that helps us see the risk before we live it.

Then there’s peer pressure. You’re rolling with friends, and someone dares you to take that yellow light or turn the music up louder. You want to seem cool, not cautious. That mindset is dangerous. I’ve seen people act differently just because someone else is in the car, like they’re on stage. But here’s the truth: it’s way cooler to make it home than to make someone laugh with a risky move. Schools can play a big role by offering programs that let students talk about these moments openly, without judgment, so we can call each other out before something happens.

My wake-up call came when my cousin got into a crash. He wasn’t texting or speeding, but he was tired. He dozed off for a split second, and that’s all it took. His car flipped into a ditch, and he had to be pulled out by firefighters. He lived, thank God, but he’s never driven the same since. Neither have I. That was a reality check I didn’t ask for, but I needed. Now, even if I’m just a passenger, I pay attention. I speak up because silence can be just as dangerous as distraction.

So, what do we do about it? First, teens need better access to modern, interactive driver’s ed. Not just classroom videos from 1996, but simulations, real stories, and guest speakers who survived crashes. Schools should partner with local organizations to bring in crash survivors, paramedics, or insurance reps who can break it down without sugarcoating it. Make it real.

Communities can also step up. Offer more free or low-cost driver’s ed programs, especially in under-resourced neighborhoods. Host teen car clinics where kids learn how to check tire pressure, spot engine problems, or understand how car insurance works. Empower us to treat driving as a responsibility, not a right. And parents? You matter too. Model safe behavior. Don’t text while driving, even if you think we don’t notice. Trust me, we do.

Lastly, teens need to hold each other accountable. Normalize safe driving like we normalize checking Snapchat. If your friend is driving recklessly, say something. If you’re too tired, don’t drive. If your car becomes the party bus, pull over and set the rules. Being the driver means being the leader, whether you signed up for that role or not.

In conclusion, teen driver safety is everyone’s issue. It lives in the choices we make, the culture we create, and the habits we form early. I plan to keep learning, keep growing, and help others do the same. Because behind every steering wheel is a life, and that life matters—whether it’s doing 25 in a school zone or cruising down I-95.