By: Gracee Gurney

To me, impaired driving is more than a legal term or a concept taught in driver’s education. It represents a moment where a driver’s mind, body, or attention is not fully present—where judgment slips, even slightly, and the road becomes more dangerous for everyone. When I first learned about impaired driving, I pictured the usual examples: someone who had too much to drink or someone obviously under the influence of drugs. I assumed impairment was easy to spot, that it came with clear warning signs. But as I gained more experience and heard personal stories from people around me, I discovered that impairment is often subtle and easy to underestimate. This is why it is frequently misunderstood, even by drivers who have completed education or traffic school. Many drivers overestimate their abilities, believing they can fight off tiredness, quickly respond to a text, or function normally after a drink or two. This false confidence can be as dangerous as the impairment itself.

Today, the types of impairment most common among drivers range from traditional substances to modern distractions. Texting while driving, for example, has become one of the most pervasive hazards on the road. It pulls a driver’s eyes, hands, and mind away from driving, often for longer than they realize. In the time it takes to read a message, a car can travel the length of a football field. Yet because texting is such an ordinary behavior, many drivers don’t view it as a serious threat. They believe they can multitask, unaware of how drastically their reaction time and awareness drop the moment they look away from the road.

Fatigue is another widespread and underestimated form of impairment. Before I understood its effects, I thought driving tired simply meant feeling sluggish or yawning. I never imagined how dangerous it could be. Fatigue slows reaction time, clouds judgment, and can even lead to microsleeps—brief moments when your brain essentially shuts down without permission. What makes fatigue especially risky is that most people don’t treat it with the seriousness it deserves. We push through exhaustion because we want to get home or avoid inconvenience. We convince ourselves we’re fine, even when our bodies are signaling otherwise.

Of course, alcohol and drugs remain major contributors to impaired driving, but what strikes me most is how often people try to rationalize their behavior. Drivers frequently claim they “feel okay” or “didn’t drink that much.” Impairment doesn’t always show on the surface, and many drivers genuinely believe they are capable of driving safely when their judgment is actually compromised. This combination of denial and misplaced confidence continues to cause preventable tragedies every day.

My understanding of impaired driving changed in a deeply personal way after hearing what happened to a close family friend. He wasn’t drinking, texting, or doing anything people typically associate with impairment. He was simply exhausted after a long shift and an even longer drive home. He told himself he could make it the rest of the way, reassuring himself that he just needed to “stay awake a little longer.” But fatigue doesn’t negotiate. At one point, his eyes closed for what he thought was a blink, but it was enough time to drift across the center line and crash. Fortunately, no one was killed, but the injuries, emotional trauma, and guilt stayed with him long after the accident. Listening to him describe that moment—the sudden loss of control, the shock of the impact, the realization of what could have happened—profoundly changed the way I think about impaired driving. It taught me that impairment is not always reckless or intentional. Sometimes it is simply the result of a tired person believing they are capable of more than their body safely allows.

Experiences like this have shaped how I view driver’s education and traffic school programs. I believe these programs can change attitudes, but not just through rules or checklists. The most impactful programs are those that make the information personal. When students hear real stories, see real consequences, or reflect on their own habits, the lessons stay with them. Programs that explain the science behind impairment—why reaction times slow, how distractions affect the brain, why fatigue is dangerous—help drivers understand the hidden risks they may not recognize on their own. In the real world, education is effective when it connects knowledge to responsibility.

As for my personal role, I believe preventing impaired driving starts with my own decisions. I no longer drive when I am tired, even if it means changing plans. I silence my phone or keep it out of reach to avoid temptation. I offer rides to friends who may not be safe to drive, and I speak up when someone else is considering a dangerous choice. I’ve learned that setting a good example is one of the most powerful ways to influence others. When people see someone practicing safe habits, it encourages them to do the same.

Ultimately, impaired driving is preventable, and prevention begins with awareness and responsibility. My experiences, education, and personal values have taught me to take that responsibility seriously. Each time I get behind the wheel, I remind myself that my decisions affect not just my own safety, but the safety of everyone on the road. That awareness is what guides me—and what motivates me to help others make safer choices as well.