In the Drivers Seat

Olivia Rodrigo was on the radio. Ironically, the song was "Drivers License," one of my favorites.

It was a great morning. I had woken up with plenty of time to go to the gym, grab my favorite drink from Aroma Joe's, and then head to work. The sun peeked over the trees to my left. My windows were slightly cracked open because of the warm summer weather, but the early hour provided enough of a breeze that I didn't need the air conditioning. I was looking forward to starting my day with some of my favorite and most dedicated swim students.

Traffic ahead of me began to slow down, par for the course on Route 95 during Boston's morning rush hour. I came to a complete stop. Then, without warning, I was thrown forward.

A car had slammed into the back of mine, pushing me into the vehicle in front of me. I screamed instinctively as the impact jolted my body. When I looked in my rearview mirror, I saw another vehicle crumpled against mine. My front bumper was embedded in the trunk of the car ahead of me.

For a moment, I sat frozen.

Then I burst into tears.

After putting my car in park, I reached into my bag for my phone and called my mom. "I just got in an accident!" I cried. "I've got your location," she immediately replied. "I'm on my way."

Still shaking, I looked toward the passenger side of my car. The driver of the vehicle I had been pushed into came over, opened my door, and helped me safely out of the car while traffic continued rushing by. Moments later, the woman who had rear-ended me hurried over. She was apologizing over and over, asking if I was okay.

I barely heard her. I just wanted my mom.

This was not what I imagined when I earned my driver's license only few months earlier. Even after watching the infamous "Highway of Death" video in driver's education, I believed accidents happened to people who weren't paying attention. I knew I would be a good driver. I wouldn't text. I wouldn't speed. I would stay alert. Yet there I stood on the shoulder of Interstate 95, wondering if I could have done anything differently.

The answer was surprisingly simple.

No.

I had done everything right. My phone was tucked away. I wasn't speeding. I had sunglasses on to reduce the morning glare. I had left plenty of following distance and stopped safely with traffic. I was driving defensively. But another driver's mistake instantly became my emergency.

That day fundamentally changed how I viewed driving. Before the accident, I thought being a safe driver simply meant following the rules of the road. Afterward, I realized safe driving is also about understanding why those rules exist. Driver's education is not simply about passing a test or earning a license. It teaches lessons written from decades of tragedy and hard-earned experience. Speed limits account for reaction time and the tremendous force created by a moving vehicle. Following distance gives drivers precious seconds to avoid collisions. Putting a phone away isn't just about avoiding a ticket; it's about giving your full attention to the lives traveling beside you. Every safety rule exists because someone, somewhere, paid the price for ignoring it.

That realization made me a more educated driver. I cannot control the person behind me or the driver approaching an intersection, but I can control my own habits. I choose to leave early so I never feel rushed. I avoid distractions before they become temptations. I scan farther down the road, anticipating the unexpected instead of simply reacting to it. I have learned that defensive driving isn't about assuming everyone else is reckless; it's about accepting that anyone, including myself, can make mistakes, and giving myself the best chance to prevent those mistakes from becoming tragedies.

A few months later, that lesson became even more personal.

A student was killed in a fiery single vehicle car crash. He was only two years older than me.

He had been speeding on a long stretch of road that once bordered a racehorse facility, the very same roads where my dad had taught me to drive. I remember weaving around orange cones while my uncle drove nearby to simulate real traffic. It was where I learned to respect the power of a vehicle before ever driving on public roads.

When news broke about the crash, our community was devastated. Reports indicated he had been driving at an extremely high speed. There was speculation that alcohol may have played a role. His vehicle caught fire after the impact. His final moments were heartbreaking. His 911 call captured him desperately pleading for someone to help him escape as the flames spread around him.

His funeral was standing room only. The casket remained closed.

Once again, the same question echoed through my mind. What could have been done differently?

Unlike my accident, this tragedy likely wasn't unavoidable. If he had slowed down, would he have survived? If alcohol was involved, why did he decide to get behind the wheel? Did he believe he was capable of driving? Did he think the crash could never happen to him? We'll never know every answer.

But we do know one thing. Every decision made before turning the key can determine whether someone arrives home safely.

The difference between my crash and his has stayed with me. Mine was caused by someone else's lapse in attention. His appears to have resulted from choices made before the crash ever happened. Together, those experiences taught me that safe driving is about more than avoiding distractions. It is about humility. It is recognizing that no matter how skilled we believe we are, the laws of physics do not make exceptions for confidence, youth, or experience. A vehicle traveling just a little faster has far less time to stop and carries exponentially more force during a collision. Alcohol, fatigue, and overconfidence all impair judgment long before a driver realizes it. An educated driver understands these realities and makes decisions accordingly, not because they fear receiving a ticket, but because they understand the consequences of getting it wrong.

Since my own accident, I have become even more aware of the responsibility I carry every time I drive. I leave earlier instead of rushing. I keep my phone out of reach. I maintain safe following distances even when other drivers don't. I resist the temptation to speed simply because everyone else is. Most importantly, I remember that no destination is important enough to risk someone else's life.

As someone pursuing a career in nursing, I think about this responsibility differently than I once did. Nurses often meet people on the worst day of their lives. We care for victims of distracted driving, impaired driving, speeding, and preventable crashes. We witness the physical injuries, but we also see the emotional devastation left behind, the parents waiting in emergency rooms, the families making impossible decisions, and the communities forever changed by one choice.

My goal is to spend my career helping people heal. But the best injuries are the ones that never happen.

Whenever I drive now, one question quietly stays with me. Not, "Will I make it to my destination on time?"

Instead, I ask myself, "Am I doing everything I can to make sure everyone else reaches theirs?"

That simple shift in perspective has changed the way I drive.

Being in the driver's seat isn't just about controlling a vehicle. It is about accepting responsibility for every life sharing the road with you. Education gives us the knowledge to recognize danger before it appears. Safe driving requires the discipline to apply that knowledge every single time we get behind the wheel. My accident taught me that I cannot control every driver I encounter, but I can control the choices I make. Those choices, to stay focused, to respect the rules of the road, and to value every life around me are the most important decisions I will make every time I turn the key.

That is what it truly means to be a safe and educated driver.