More Than Phones

I am driving
down a pretty quiet road on my way to a party with three of my
friends. It is already dark out and my headlights illuminate the road
ahead of me. I turn up the radio as our favorite song comes on and we
all start screaming along, dancing to the routine we made up years
ago. I feel the vibration of my phone in my pocket and think about
checking my messages and then decide not to. I wouldn’t want to get
distracted by my phone. The one thing they always tell drivers new
and old: “Don’t text and drive.”

I keep my eyes
fixed on the road as I bob my head to the beat of the music. Then the
chorus comes on. I hear everyone take in a deep breath in
preparation. We all start singing at the top of our lungs and dancing
crazily to match the song’s energy. I start flipping my hair around
like my best friend.

I get dizzy. I look back at the road and see the yellow line on my
right. I see headlights. I see them coming towards us faster and
faster. I hear honking. I hear my friends screaming. I freeze.


One second of hesitation is all it takes. I don’t do anything but
stare as the truck gets closer and closer. At the last moment, it
veers to the right trying its best to get out of my way. “It”
really isn’t the right word. I have no idea who could be in there
screaming the same way my friends are. A family on their way home
from a vacation, a father on his way to see his kids after a long
work day, a single woman with only a dog at home who will have no
idea why his owner didn’t come home.

I finally come out of my daze and slam on the brakes as they screech
in protest. The truck swerves out of the path of my car. Right into
the guard rail blocking the edge of a steep hill. I watch in what
seems to be slow motion as the truck flips over the rail and then
several more times down the hill, glass and metal flying in all
directions.


I can’t breathe. I see red flashing lights coming down the road. I
don’t know how long I sit there, but it must be long enough for my
friends to call 911 and for the ambulance to arrive. I look around
and all but one of my friends have gotten out to check on the truck’s
driver. I watch in horror as the EMTs retrieve three stretchers,
placing the passengers into the back of the ambulance.


My first thought is, “How did this happen? I never even checked my
phone.” This is the first time I truly realized that drivers can be
distracted by so much more. I wish I knew that before. Now I know,
and I’ll never be the same.