Impaired driving, to me, means getting behind the wheel when something, that could be alcohol, drugs, exhaustion, your phone, distraction, or even strong emotions, keeps you from being fully present and in control. Impairment can be more than just drunk, and many people might not understand this. They know the legal limits, but they don’t always recognize the more subtle forms of impairment that can be just as dangerous: driving after barely sleeping, answering “just one text,” or taking a medication they don’t realize slows their reaction time.

Today, the most common impairments I see are alcohol, texting, and fatigue. Each one affects driving differently, but they all chip away at the abilities we depend on the most: focus, coordination, judgment, and reaction time. Texting might seem harmless, but taking your eyes off the road for even a few seconds impairs your focus for a period of time after you return your eyes to the road. Fatigue makes your brain lag, and sometimes it hits so hard that people drift lanes without realizing it. And alcohol and drugs, of course, dull everything. Perception, speed control, even the ability to recognize you’re impaired in the first place.

The moment that changed how I think about impaired driving wasn’t something I personally lived through, but a story from someone I know. On April 26, 2006, at 8pm, a semi truck going north down I-69 was distracted, and lost control. The truck crossed the median and it collided with a van of 9 Taylor University students and staff on their way home from a school event. Five people died at the crash site, and the other four were seriously injured and rushed to the hospital. One young woman had been thrown 50 feet from the wreckage, she was barely breathing. She was identified as Laura, a 22 year old senior at Taylor.

Laura's parents were at their home in Caledonia when their phone rang. They were told to make their way to Fort Wayne, where their daughter was at a trauma center in critical condition. It was a two and a half hour drive. As they were driving, they received more calls from the hospital updating them on Laura's condition. They said she was unconscious, had various broken bones, and they needed their permission to put a monitor in her head to control swelling. They arrived at the hospital at around 1:15 in the morning. They didn't know if Laura would survive, or if she would ever be the same person again.

Six hours after the crash, Laura's family was able to see her. There were machines and tubes connected to her and her face was swollen. The worst of Laura's injuries was invisible. She had serious damage to her brain and she was in a coma. There was no telling when she would wake up.

A week after the crash, Laura was still in intensive care, in a coma. As days went by, her family never left her alone. They all waited as Laura slowly regained consciousness. At one point Laura yawned, and her sister, Lisa, noticed her teeth. She saw that her front teeth were different than she remembered. Another thing her family noticed was her belly button piercing. Laura never told them about that.

Finally for the first time after the crash, Laura opened her eyes. It was May 16, 20 days after the crash. And just a few days later, Laura was moved to a rehabilitation center in Grand Rapids, not far from her family's home. Laura was improving, but waking up from a coma takes time.

Four weeks after the crash, all of the swelling in Laura's face was gone, her broken bones were healing and she was undergoing therapy to regain her mental and physical powers. As her speech began to improve, she started saying strange things. She called her mother by the wrong name and she called her boyfriend by the wrong name. The doctors were not concerned, because she was showing many good signs of regaining her memory and her identity.

A few days later Laura had another therapy session. She was tasked with writing her name on a piece of paper. She took the pen in her hand and wrote “Whitney”. Her dad remembered what the therapist had said earlier about her brain and how her neurons are firing but not quite connecting. As they were wheeling her back to her room, Laura mumbled something. As her dad listened closer he heard “false parents” whisper out of Laura's mouth.

That night, after a day with her friends, Laura's sister returned to the hospital. Her father told her about what happened. At that moment, Lisa had the same feeling of uneasiness. As Lisa drove home that night, she thought of all the unusual things she had noticed in the last five weeks. Laura's teeth, her eyes, her belly button piercing, and now writing the wrong name. But as doubt crept in, they were asking themselves the horrific question: what if the girl in the hospital bed was not their daughter at all?

They realized they had to resolve their doubts somehow. They tried to find out how the bodies were identified after the accident. Laura was found beside her bag and purse, but they realized that the accident scene was disastrous, with things scattered all over. They were told that a visual ID was made at the scene, which left room for doubt. Meanwhile, Lisa was at the hospital with Laura. She asked Laura a question. “What are your parents' names?” Laura responded with: “Newell and Colleen.” Laura's parents' names were Don and Susie, and at that moment Lisa knew: the girl sitting in front of her was not her own sister. Newell and Colleen were the parents of Whitney Cerak, an 18-year-old freshman at Taylor whose funeral was held five weeks ago. Somehow, the two young women's purses and photo IDs were switched at the crash site. They finally confirmed this with dental records.

Although this mistake occurred, the families remained close and supportive even after the fact. Years later, Whitney, now married with three kids, went back to Taylor University and told her story. “My family had a funeral for me,” she said to the students and staff. Whitney also thanked Laura's family and friends for caring for her and loving her like a daughter.

Driver’s education and traffic safety courses can make a real difference because they connect the information to real-life consequences. The most effective programs don’t just list laws, they show students what impairment looks like, explain why people misjudge their abilities, and break down the science of how substances and distractions affect the brain. When students see crash reconstructions, hear firsthand stories, or try simulations that mimic impairment, the lesson becomes something they feel, not just something they memorize.

Personally, I think my role in preventing impaired driving starts with modeling the behaviour I want others to follow. That means refusing to text and drive, planning rides when I know I’ll be tired and speaking up, even when it’s uncomfortable. What I’ve learned from training and drivers’ ed doesn’t just influence me; it influences the people around me. Sometimes all it takes is one person saying, “Let’s wait” or “I can drive you” to change the outcome.

Impaired driving isn’t just about bad decisions, it’s about everyday moments that require honesty, responsibility, and awareness. Education helps, but how we carry that knowledge into our lives is what truly protects people on the road.