Make Good Choices While in the Driver's Seat

In The Driver’s Seat

Can you imagine driving home from work and you look down to text your friend about that customer that pissed you off today, when there is a thud and you hear barking?  You put your car in park and get out to check your vehicle and as you walk around the vehicle you see a dog on a leash, leading to the undercarriage of your car.  You hear a groaning sound from what sounds like a woman and look under your car to see an older woman who is semi-conscious under your car in a pool of blood.  Your hands shake as you dial three simple numbers that you’ve been trained to call since kindergarten, 9-1-1.

Soon paramedics and police are on the scene and you are having trouble thinking as you try to remember the events leading up to the incident.  You question yourself when the officer asks if you were on your phone, wondering if you should tell him the truth or make something else.  You tell him that you don’t remember and watch as the woman is loaded into the back of an ambulance.  Things don’t look good.  There is another officer standing holding the dog leash, trying to figure out what he is going to do with the dog.  “Will she be okay,” you wonder.

The next few hours are a blur, you don’t remember much aside from being put into the back of a squad car with handcuffs on and watching from the backseat as more officers arrive at the scene.  You can’t hear what anyone is saying, but you see them talking amongst each other and looking back at you every so often as you sit silently.  You hear a pounding noise, realizing it is your heart and every breath you take seems to become more and more difficult.  Someone comes for the dog.  It is a younger woman, possibly the woman’s child.  She’s crying and talking to the officer, not realizing that you are in the backseat of the squad car silently watching.

The officer that put you in the backseat, comes back to the car and gets into the driver’s seat.  He glances back at you and says that when you get back to the station, you’ll be able to call your parents.  Your parents?  Your heart beats harder.  How are you going to explain this.  You are a terrible liar and you realize that your mother is going to realize exactly what happened.  Your mom is always telling everyone about the importance of paying attention to the road when driving.  She’s yelled at your father in front of you for texting while he’s driving.  She is definitely going to know.

The drive back to the police station seems to take forever, even though it is three blocks away from where you sent that text.  “Can I have something to drink?” You manage to mutter to the officer.  You see his eyes look back at you in the rearview mirror.  They don’t seem to be angry, but he shakes his head and tells you that he will give you a cup of water when you get back to the station.  He seems to pity you for being so young.  You just got your driver’s license and a “new” used car.

When you are back at the station the officer takes you out and brings you into the building.  You walk past several people who watch you with questioning eyes.  He takes you into a booking room removes your handcuffs.  Next, he takes your picture and fingerprints you.  He allows you to make a phone call, deciding not to put you in a jail cell because of your age and after you explain the situation to your father on the phone, the officer instead takes you to an interrogation room.

You sit quietly staring at each other as you wait for your parents to arrive.  The second you see your mom she crosses her arms over her chest in disappointment as she stares at you momentarily before taking a seat.  Your father does not smile but sits down and pears at you behind his brown rimmed glasses.  “Do they realize what happened,” you wonder.  You listen as the officer explains all of the information he has this far to your parents, only missing one bit of information.  You were sending a text while driving.  He assumes that you didn’t see the woman because of how dark it was. You notice how quickly your parents’ moods change.  

You glance at a clock on the wall as your heart fills with guilt.  You take a sip of your water, trying not to cry.  No one assumes you are withholding any information.  It’s now just past midnight and you can hear every tic the clock is making as your father gets his phone out to call a lawyer.  Your mother takes your hand in hers to try to give you courage and you sit silently, asking yourself if that text was worth it.