When I was ten years old, my family was driving home from a weeklong camping trip along a narrow, winding two-lane mountain road. We were pulling a trailer behind our truck when, just two car lengths ahead of us, two vehicles collided head-on. We stopped immediately, stunned. The scene felt surreal: two teenagers, dazed and stumbling, walked around calling for their dogs, who had jumped from the bed of their pickup during the crash. The other driver, an older man, remained unconscious in his vehicle as bystanders rushed to help. There was no cell service on that stretch of road, so calling 911 was impossible. Someone eventually drove down the mountain to get help. It took emergency responders 45 minutes to arrive. By the time they did, the man had passed away.
Later, we learned the cause of the crash. The teenage driver had been speeding around a curve and lost control, drifting into the oncoming lane. He and his passenger survived, but the man in the other vehicle did not. His name was Alan. He owned a business in my hometown of Chico, California. He wasn’t speeding. He wasn’t distracted. He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. I think about him a lot.
Even at ten years old, I knew what I had witnessed was tragic, but I couldn’t yet understand how completely preventable it had been. Now that I’m a driver myself, I see it more clearly. The teenagers in that truck weren’t trying to harm anyone. But a moment of inattention or recklessness—speeding around a blind corner, being distracted by music or conversation—was all it took. Someone lost his life, and two teenagers will carry that guilt forever. That crash didn't just affect two cars. It changed the lives of everyone involved, including bystanders like me who will never forget what we saw.
I’m 17 years old now, and I think about that memory often when I’m driving. I ask myself: am I really any different from those teenagers? Could I make the same mistake? I want to believe I’m a careful driver, but I also know how easy it is to become distracted, especially during routine trips when we think we know the road and let our guard down. And the statistics back that up. According to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, 51% of people killed in distraction-related crashes involving teen drivers in 2023 were teens aged 15 to 19. In 2023, I was 15. Those numbers aren’t abstract—they include people just like me.
I hadn’t thought deeply about my own driving habits until I sat down to write this essay. But now, I realize there are simple changes I can make that could one day save a life—maybe even my own.
First, I’m going to stop drinking coffee while driving. It sounds harmless, but I’ve developed a bad habit of bringing an open ceramic mug in the car instead of using a travel cup. That may seem like a small detail, but with potholes and rough roads where I live, one spilled drink could easily become a dangerous distraction. It's not worth the risk.
Second, I’m committed to being more mindful of my speed, especially near my high school and in downtown Chico. That area is filled with one-way streets, which often confuse new drivers—including the thousands of students who move to town each year to attend Chico State University. Several times, I’ve seen drivers mistakenly turn the wrong way down one-way streets or assume I have a stop sign when I don’t. By approaching those intersections slowly—even when I have the right of way—I’ve already prevented a few close calls.
Third, I’m going to start using the “Do Not Disturb While Driving” feature on my phone. While I normally use Bluetooth for hands-free calls, my car’s system has a habit of cutting out mid-conversation, prompting me to switch to speakerphone or my handset. That moment of fumbling with my phone is exactly the kind of distraction that can have serious consequences. Enabling Do Not Disturb will help me stay focused and resist the temptation to fix connection issues while driving.
These may seem like small adjustments, but they reflect a deeper shift in mindset. I’ve come to realize that safe driving isn’t just about following the rules of the road. It’s about respecting the weight of the responsibility that comes with being behind the wheel. It’s about remembering that one careless moment can ripple outward in devastating ways.
Since getting my license, I’ve been lucky to have access to a newer car and the freedom that comes with it. That freedom has helped me grow in many ways, and now I want to use it wisely. I want to make intentional, respectful choices as a driver—not just for myself, but for everyone I share the road with. And I want to do it in memory of Alan, a man I never knew but will never forget. His life was cut short by someone else’s distraction. Honoring that memory means staying alert, staying responsible, and doing my part to be a safer driver, every single day.