In 2022 I got into a car accident coming home from work; I slammed on the brakes for an animal that I thought I could safety avoid. With the rain on the road and tires that were much too old, I unfortunately found myself riding up along a guard rail. I was left with a car with two popped tires, a busted front bumper, a completely broken oil pan, and a myriad of other issues. In the moments after, I was able to man handle my car into a neighboring field, with what momentum it had left. A nice Amish woman came out of her house to check on me, while I was on the phone with my dad. My voice was steady as I told her I was fine; my dad asked me If I was hurt and I wasn’t, then he asked me if I was okay. Confronted with that question, the adrenaline high washed away from me and as my face regained its color I cried. I was five minutes away from my house, stuck on the backroads of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Just five minutes and I would have been home.
Years prior, I was told in drivers-ed that Backroads were more dangerous than the highway, which makes sense as Lancaster County saw 4,794 traffic accidents in 2020. I was also told by my dad something he was told growing up: When you swerve for an animal you are ranking their life above yours: that singular action will kill you. What no one tells you is that when you are confronted with a situation on the road, no level of preparation will be able to override basic instincts. Before this incident if you had asked me if I would ever swerve for an animal the answer would be an astounding “No”. But I know now that to be untrue. Because while I saw a Rabbit, my brain saw something living that my car should avoid, and my body acted accordingly.
After my accident everyone wanted to tell me about when they made stupid mistakes behind the wheel. Like that time when my friend’s mom’s engine fell out of her car while she was on the turnpike, or when my friend forgot to get an oil change and smoke billowed from their hood while at a gas station. But none of that changed the fact that I made a dumb decision while operating a piece of complex machinery; the same machinery that could have gotten myself or others killed. I was lucky to walk away with a nearly totaled car. I was lucky to walk away with sore muscles from bracing. I was lucky to walk away.
Over a year later, I came home from college to visit my family. I took the train and was picked up by my dad from the station. It was the beautiful part of a Pennsylvania Winter, right after a night of snowfall, but not quite to the point where the sun melts the snow into sludge. The roads were freshly plowed but still had a thin dusting of powder on them from the wind coming off the fields and the rolling hills. And up ahead, we could see a snowplow going the wrong way on the road. We slowed down but felt confident to continue as the driver had corrected himself and was now slowing to a stop in the correct lane. We continued to pass, and just as we were, maybe ten feet ahead of the plough, it turned into us. The other driver's stupid decision was at the forefront of my mind, but the more astonishing one was being made a foot next to me. My dad weighed the pros and cons of two decisions he had and a split-second consensus was made. And with the same decision-making adrenaline in his head, he yanked the wheel and hit the gas, causing us to take a hard right turn into a connecting street and slam nose first into the sturdy rock wall of an Amish graveyard. We unfortunately hit the back of a horse and buggy on the way, the horse went crazy, and the back of the buggy was pretty banged up. Our car was totaled but we were unharmed. And for the second time in a span of two years I was in a car accident. My dad wasted no time and asked me once again if I was okay. And I could safely respond yes and mean it. I was okay because I knew he was going to make the right decision.
When confronted with the potentially decapitating blade of a snow plough, my dad saved our lives. His instincts were the same as mine a year earlier, but he was influenced by something I didn’t have. He had raw and palpable real-life experience. Instincts that come from years on the road, something that can't be learned but must be earned. I learned a lot that day. Amongst the long list is the idea that driving has less to do with steering a car and more to do with being of sound mind.
When you sit on the driver's side of a car you should ask yourself whether you are prepared to make a life-altering decision, and if the answer is no, and you still turn the key and start that ignition, you have already made it. New drivers can’t be expected to react with wisdom they haven’t had the chance to earn. What they can do is make sure they are as prepared as they possibly can be. Take a comprehensive driver's education course, minimize distractions while in the car, making sure they are spending all their hours in all types of weather. And just being in the correct mental state to drive before sitting down behind the wheel.