Driving Is Not A Solo Trip

Bike tires squeaked down the pavement, the evening sun beating down before us as we rounded the corner to our subdivision. The smell of mid-summer outdoors clinging to our clothes and skin. My mom and I had a routine of biking through the surrounding neighborhoods every evening in the summer— restoring some calm after a busy day, and resetting our bodies for the next one. I loved that tradition.

We stopped at the intersection before our street, sweat had beaded under my helmet and I swiped it away to avoid it going in my eyes. Two cars were coming down the road and we were waiting for them to pass before we crossed. The tan minivan was turning left into the condo complex we had just come out of. The car behind it wanted to speed up. I laughed at something my mom said and wheeled my bike out further into the road, ready to continue on after these cars went by.

The car made a funny sound and was suddenly whipping by in the left lane; in the direction the van was turning.

BANG!

I felt my hair whipping out of my helmet and in front of my face. My nostrils were filled with the pungent smell of burning rubber. The car was still racing down the road, the largest cloud of dust swirling up behind it as its wheels flew off, making the vehicle swerve between the lanes and in front yards. The van was flying into mailboxes on the other side of the street. It was the mailboxes that made it stop. We just stood there in shock.

I looked down at my feet and saw the tire marks three feet from where my toes stopped. I dropped my bike and began running, my mom followed behind me. Eyes burning as the dust swept into my lungs, heaving as time felt like it was slowing around me as I tried to reach the van. Inside, the old man was stuck. His door was completely caved in on his side. He kept apologizing to us through the open window, saying he needed to get off of our neighbors’ lawn. My mom was trying desperately to get his passenger door open and I was attempting to work the lock on the crushed console.

Curious faces began to surround the scene, calls were being made, and dust was settling. The old man made it out of his car, but not before collapsing on the ground. He looked up at us and we saw a massive gash on his head. Crimson streamed into his eyes and through his gray hair. I shouted for gauze, paper towels, napkins— anything to staunch the bleeding. Down the street, people crowded around the other car which had lost three of its four wheels. Bits of the totaled car were strewn across the road, torn up grass tracking the car’s chaotic path of destruction. A man stumbled out and began shouting at the people. He demanded to know if his speakers were okay and shoved onlookers out of the way to check on them in the trunk.

The rest was a blur of blue and red lights. I was too young to be asked questions by authorities, so I waited in the grass with my neighbors. Minutes, hours, maybe days later, my mom and I grabbed our discarded bikes off the side of the road and walked them back to my house. The smell of burnt rubber hadn’t left my nose, and my clothes were covered in sweat and dust.

We later found out that the old man had died from his injuries, and that the other man was being charged with vehicular manslaughter. He had been under the influence and was suspected to be mildly intoxicated as well.

Incidentally, I was in the middle of segment two of driver’s training during the time of the accident. We were learning about safe driving habits as well as DUI’s. I had been brushing off most of it because I have never been concerned about having a drug problem, but it had never occurred to me that I needed to hear this in order to protect myself from other drivers, and that accidents were not always caused by such extreme behaviors such as drug or alcohol use.

I began paying closer attention to the warnings our instructors were giving us. The videos (while somewhat outdated) hit harder than I had expected. It was important to see what could happen if I wasn’t careful on the road, both with my actions, but also with being aware of other drivers. Unfortunately, driving is not a solo trip, it’s also about every other driver going on their way. Some people are in a rush and will make that known. Others are terrified of being behind the wheel, and will go dangerously slow to ensure what they falsely believe is safety. And there are those who have to send that text to their friend, assuring them they will be at their place on time… until they rear-end someone because they weren’t paying attention to the road.

It is incredibly important for people to be properly educated on the dangers of distracted driving. I’ll be honest, I didn’t want to take the second segment of driver’s training because like I said, I truly believed that it didn’t pertain to me. While I don’t have a drug/alcohol problem, I am still a teenager who can be easily distracted with talking, singing, and texting; all of which are things that can happen in the car. Learning how to have effective focusing skills for driving is extremely important and can save lives, as well as bumpers. I also learned that preventative steps for safe driving can be incredibly simple. For example, planning your route ahead of time can help avoid confusion on the road. Similarly, figuring out what music to listen to, whether it be a playlist, or the radio, before you’re on the road is a very easy and quick step to take. Once you’ve done this, it’s very easy to put your phone face-down in a place that is easy to access, but not distracting.

After I took segment two, I came home, excited to drive, but feeling like I finally grasped the full responsibility of it. I remember school starting and how I didn’t have my license yet, but my friend did. She and I wanted to drive downtown for frozen yogurt after school, so she took me in her car. It wasn’t a long drive, maybe five minutes, but she pulled out her phone at one point and with one hand on the steering wheel, began texting her mom. I felt sweat beading on my neck as panic creeped in. It was the first time I had witnessed this since the accident and I was very aware of how her eyes were glued to her phone screen, and not the oncoming traffic. I ended up asking if she could put her phone down and wait until we got to the shop. She did, and although I felt an embarrassed blush from feeling like a mom scolding her child, I also felt relief.

We drove past a pair of girls biking and I couldn’t help but think back to that day in July. They wouldn’t have to witness any tragedy because of us. They wouldn’t stop biking this route because of the fear that something like that might happen again there. They wouldn’t count their blessings that they hadn’t been three feet closer to those cars when they collided. They would go to bed and rest easy, knowing that they would bike again tomorrow.