With the warm spring night air streaming through the half open windows of my blue Toyota rav-4, I animatedly belted out my own version of Sublime’s What I Got. I tapped my fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel, head bobbing away and really letting it loose, “Lovin’, is what I got, I said remember that. Lovin’, is what I got!” Checking the time, the small green lines on the dash clock told me it was 2:30 AM, late and past my curfew. Zoning back in on the road in front of me, I saw my best friend flick on his left blinker signaling our turn out of street-lit cop territory and up into the darkness the rural western Massachusetts hills that we called home. We were driving back together from a Friday night of hanging out with the guys, and once again it had came time for us to make our 12 mile return to our houses in the woods.
The call of our own beds, and Mama’s pancakes in the morning had made us forget about the few beers we had drunk earlier while playing in that “epic” game of beer pong. We were by no means drunk, but being under 21 we were definitely violating the “zero tolerance” drunk driving policy. A slight miscue on the roads could end up with a run in with the police, and then we’d really be in trouble. That was mistake number one.
As I tugged the wheel to the left, my body leaning with the force of the turn, I felt home free. We were in our territory now. No local cops would be out at this hour (they always went off-duty at 11) and we knew these roads like the back of our hands. The only chance we had of a police encounter was the rare state trooper making his late night rounds, but that was a real longshot. Being our young and stupid selves, Julian and I knew what this meant; it was race time. Mistake number two.
The red orbs of his taillights grew smaller as he rapidly quickened the pace, then disappearing all together as he flew around the next curve. “It’s on,” I thought, as I pushed in the clutch, downshifted into third and gave it some gas. The engine churned harder, pressing me back against my seat. “This old jalopy has still got a little pep,” I thought as I glanced at the little orange needle approaching the 60 mph mark. We zipped along through the fresh spring night approaching one of our well known straight-a-ways where we both knew I was going to try and pass him. Flying around a corner right on his tail the road opened up in front of us--more that a quarter mile of straight, level pavement.
Faster and faster we went, the sides of the road a whizzing blur as we stupidly flew through the night. Approaching 80mph with the engine screaming and the end in sight, I knew I wasn’t going to catch him. I backed off, braking hard as the road ended its straight course and veered sharply left then snaked backed to the right. Looking up I saw Julian’s taillights weave around the first corner, and then all of a sudden disappear into blackness. Surprised and confused, I quickly switched on my high beams.
Then I saw him. Ripping the wheel to the right, I narrowly missed crashing head on into his mangled black sedan that now sat straddling the double yellow line, facing the opposite direction we had been traveling. I screeched to a stop, flung open the door and sprinted back to the scene. Horrified, expecting the worst and still not completely aware of what was happening, I was more than relieved to see Julian alive and in one piece. He was standing there, not a scratch on him, staring in disbelief at the tree that had just ruined his car and almost killed him.
Once I knew he was okay, our situation truly began to sink in. Here we were, two 17 year-old kids technically over the legal limit, in the middle of the night with a totaled car stuck in the middle of the road. It was then, as I looked at the specks of car debris scattered about the road and the flashing of my emergency lights from my vacant vehicle, that I realized how truly stupid and ignorant we were. We never thought something like this could happen to us. We were your typical “invincible” male teenagers oblivious to the dangers we were putting ourselves in.
I believe that it was this feeling of invincibility that got us in trouble that night. Partially natural, but also partially a product of our society, it is this feeling that drives teenagers like Julian and me to take risks and test limits. We must break this “cloak of invincibility” that shrouds American teenage youth. It is not only until a monumental and life-changing event that kids like us will snap out of this immature trance and realize the stupidity, and potential impacts of our actions.
Statistics gathered by the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration (NHTSA) show that a “teenage boy with a blood alcohol content of .05 (under the legal limit for an of age drinker), are 18 times more likely to experience a single vehicle crash than a non-drinking teenage boy (“Statistics of Teen Drunk Driving”)”. While my buddy and I may have not been wasted behind the wheel, it is probably true that alcohol played a part in our decision to speed recklessly down that familiar rural road.
On to mistake number two: racing. Again, how stupid could be we? Even though driving on these roads was second nature, it only took one little patch of sand and driving to fast to send Julian hurtling into that tree. The NHTSA says “motor vehicle accidents are the leading cause of death for people between the ages of 16-20,” and that out of 1,000 people who participate in street racing, 49 will get injured (“Illegal Racing Stats”). That means that almost five percent of participants get hurt while sliding, and screeching around corners at high speeds. I would say that those odds are too high to take the risk.
So what needs to happen? All of us remember being told that drunk driving is bad, and to make smart decisions behind the wheel. We’ve been shown those 90’s videos and read horrific stories about what can happen if we do these types of things. It became clear to me that night that even though we had heard these messages many times, they were not powerful enough to sink in. It took a terrifying event like this to make us realize how lucky, but insanely stupid we were at the same time.
I argue an event like mine is preventable. Schools and educators must use stories in graphic detail, and invite speakers who have lost loved ones talk to our youth about these decisions that they will face as they grow up. In 2002 in Granger, Texas, 19-year-old Amy Wolf was killed by a drunk driver. Her parents have since dedicated themselves by using her story to educate local high schooler’s about how to make good decisions (Chiodo, par 2). Author Lauren Chiodo, in her article then discusses how many students wished that they were given this type of information in high school. Here is direct evidence that we are not doing enough as a country to educate our youth on the impacts of their actions and how to make better decisions.
Even though some parents might disagree, I think the brutal truth is the best way to undermine the teenage sense of “invincibility” and get them to be smarter, safer and make better decisions. High schools and driver education institutions must show the gruesome images and mothers wailing because of the loss of their children. While these materials are graphic and I understand some families do not want to expose their children to them, this is what it takes to get the message across. There should be a required nationwide curriculum that would more effectively educate our youth of the dangers of their actions. Maybe if I had been shown of these alarming images and heard these personal stories, I would have seen that mangled car that DARE had brought to school to show and tell, before I slammed on the gas and sped up. But I didn’t. It had not been forced down my throat hard enough and I chose to make the stupid decision anyway.
I got lucky that night. Julian got luckier. But it was not until then, after making these stupid decisions many times earlier that we realized what we were getting ourselves in to. Let’s as a country ramp up our efforts to educate our youth, even if it means telling and showing them disturbing and upsetting things. I wish I had been exposed to this type of information, as it could have prevented me from almost killing my best friend. I am older, wiser and slightly less stupid now but this night will be engrained in my mind forever.
Works Cited
Chiodo, Lauren. “Local tragedy used to each drug, alcohol awareness.” The Taylor Daily Press. Sept 1 2010. Web. 19 April 2011.
“Illegal Racing Stats.” Street Legal Drags. 2003. Web. April 18 2011.
“Statistics of Teen Drunk Driving.” Car Accident Advice. 2008. Web. April 19 2011.
