You Bring A Weapon to the Gas Station

The
tighter my foot clenched against the brake, the tighter my ribs
seemed to clench around my thumping heart. The stop sign was getting
speedily closer, but my van showed no sign of stopping. I almost
wanted to close my eyes, let go, just imagine I was somewhere else,
anywhere else,
but that would have just made things worse. So I helplessly clasped
my fingers tighter around the wheel and numbly spun it as far as it
could go to the left. I felt my face growing colder, and I didn’t
know if it was the still chilled air blowing aggressively out of the
vent, or the realization that if a car was coming when I made this
turn, these cold moments might be my last ones.

But
it was the only thing to do. My wheels were screeching, and I may
have been going a little too fast for a slushy December night in my
mom’s old minivan. There was no way I would stop in time; I’d
smash head on through the old barbershop window. So I weakly spit out
the fastest prayers I’d ever prayed and cut my wheel as sharp as I
could. I let go of the brake. My car spun. I peeked up. No cars. My
car slowed. I gently regained control and touched the brake, pulling
feebly over. As I breathed out, I realized I forgot the last time I’d
breathed in.

My
head pounded with so many thoughts it felt like I wasn’t thinking
at all. I didn’t move. The steady flow of air kept pumping out of
the vent, tickling my arm. I shut it off and closed my eyes. My mind
flashed suddenly back to just a few months ago in drivers’ ed, and
I could hear my instructor Steph’s familiar voice, gentle but very
serious: “Maria, driving isn’t a game. Your car isn’t a toy;
it’s a weapon.”

I’d
nodded politely, smiled, but I didn’t understand. I thought I had
total control of that car; I thought accidents happened to other
people – stupid people, drunk people, not me. I thought I was
invincible.

But
that night, I learned I wasn’t. I’d just been changing the radio
station and lost track of my steadily creeping up speedometer, and
that’s all it took. Sure, driving with alcohol is a potent
combination. But so is driving with a phone, eating a snack, putting
on makeup, driving with music pounding through your mind – it’s all
sucking up crucial energy and attention, stretching too much out of
your brain.

And
that is the essence of drivers ed – realizing that even if you
think you can multitask, you can’t. When you do something else
while driving, your mind doesn’t multitask – it half tasks. Driving
distractedly isn’t a game; it’s a gamble… and the stakes are
far too precious. Life is the most precious gift we possess. So every
time you want to eat a banana or change your music, remember you’re
in a tank, not a casino.