The first time I ever heard any of the music of Hamilton: An
American Musical, I was fifteen years old and in the back seat of
a car being driven home by my thespian troupe’s president. She was
a family friend, daughter of one of the Vice Principals of my high
school, and my thespian mother. I remember sitting in the back of
that VW Beetle, rooted to my seat for the whole five minute drive
from the school to my house. We got there safely, but with the way
she was driving, it felt like we wouldn’t. I’m not saying Kaylee
traumatized me into being a safe driver, but I could. It wouldn’t
be truthful, but I could say it.
Historically,
I’ve been a reckless driver. I’ve always kind of felt like I
would die in a car, and the little voice in my brain that tells me to
do things like drive into traffic is too smooth to be scary if I
don’t listen to it. I’ve made reckless left turns with friends in
the car, almost tipped my car over by taking a curb too quickly, and
made every passenger I’ve ever had feel the way Kaylee made me feel
when I was fifteen. I feel bad about it, but I haven’t stopped.
Driving recklessly is just so much fun!
This last year,
there have been two fatal car accidents involving people from my
school. No one I knew was killed, but I know people who did know
them. One girl was driving with her best friend, mother, and
grandfather when she crashed, killing her mother and grandfather. I
can’t imagine being her, but I very well could be. Easily. One
neglected blind spot or one turn taken too quickly could turn into a
funeral in the blink of an eye.
Until yesterday,
I had never been in a car accident. It didn’t feel like something
that could actually happen; it was just one of those things that
happens in movies and is devastating, or you hear about on the news,
but you’re safe because you’re better than that. My car is tiny,
maneuverable, and I trust it with my life on the daily. Yesterday,
though, I backed up into a woman’s car in the middle of a
residential parking lot two cities from my home. No one was injured,
but it was a harsh reminder that I am not immune. My car is made of
steel like everyone else’s, and can crumple and rip just as easily.
Drivers ed
should emphasize that feeling more. The realization that you are not
a protagonist in your own little novel where nothing bad can happen
is sobering, and can save your life. Hopefully it’s saved mine.