It was November 2023, and I was so excited to finally have my learners permit. The only thing on my mind was being able to drive a car, something that I have been anticipating since I was a little kid. I was just 15, but driving made me feel so independent. But just the next morning, my mom received a phone call. I could tell by how she looked at my dad and me that something was wrong. Then everything changed as she told us my cousin DJ had been in a car accident and was in critical condition. He did not survive, nor did three of his friends in the vehicle. Innocent lives were taken because a drunk driver made the decision to get behind the wheel and drive early that morning. That moment changed everything about how I viewed driving. It did not feel exciting anymore. It felt dangerous, like something that can quickly have detrimental consequences, and something that people my age rarely talk about.

Before my cousin passed, impaired driving was just a concept from health class or the Aceable driving course. It sounded like a rule everyone should follow but not something that would ever affect me. After the tragedy, it became personal. To me, impaired driving is not even just about alcohol or drugs. It can be anything that takes your attention away from the road. It is driving after a long day when you are too tired to fully focus. It is trying to answer a text because it feels urgent, or reaching for an item in the backseat. All of those things seem small until you realize what one second of distraction can take away from a person and their family forever. Unfortunately, a lot of new drivers do not understand that.

Before his death, I probably would have told you that I would be a careful driver and nothing like that would ever happen to me. After losing my cousin, I realized driving is dangerous even for good people, for careful people, and for people who do everything right. That is what has been hardest for me to accept.

When I finally got my license eight months later, I felt proud, but I also was nervous. Getting behind the wheel and driving through the dangerous highways of Houston no longer felt like freedom. It felt like responsibility because I kept thinking about how my cousin lost his life. My family was happy for me, but I also sensed their fear of me driving alone. They constantly remind me to be careful and text me to check in whenever I leave the house. My mom worries if I am out late and stays awake until I get home. I understand why. Losing someone to impaired driving never leaves your mind and changes the way you see every car on the road.

Driver’s education videos have also felt differently because of that family tragedy. The videos showing real crashes did not feel like hypothetical lessons. They felt like things that actually happen to people like my cousin. The statistics did not seem like numbers. They served as reminders that my cousin was among those statistics. Driver's education taught me the rules of the road, but the part that stuck with me was the idea that my choices while driving are not just about me. They’re about the people trusting you to get them home, and the strangers whose lives cross yours at 65 miles per hour. Driver’s education works best when it makes people understand that driving is a privilege, not something to take lightly. Courses that use real stories, real scenarios, and honest conversations about consequences are the ones that truly change behavior.

Since getting my license, I have taken that responsibility seriously. I do not text while driving, even when the notification pops up and I am tempted to check it. I also do not drive when I am exhausted. If I feel even slightly off, I ask someone else to drive or I wait. When I am the one driving my friends, I make sure that they all know not to try to take my attention off the road. No distractions, no yelling, no grabbing the wheel, and no phones in my face. If someone is being reckless or thinking about driving impaired, I am not afraid to speak up, even if it makes me sound corny. I do this because I know what the worst-case scenario looks like, and because my cousin’s story forever changed the way I think.

I also try to influence people around me. If someone tells me they are tired, I offer them a ride. If a friend mentions drinking, I remind them to not even consider driving themselves. I have learned that preventing impaired driving is not always about big actions. Sometimes it is just about saying something at the right time or being the person who cares enough to have the hard conversation with your friends. If every new driver did that, the roads would be safer.

I cannot change what happened to my cousin, but I can change how I drive because of it. Every time I get behind the wheel, I think about the responsibility I have to my family and to the people who share the road with me. Safe driving is not just following rules; it is understanding what is at stake. It is realizing that one choice can save someone’s life or take it away. That awareness is something I carry with me every day, and it is the reason I want to be the safest driver I can be. My goal is simple. I just want every person who rides with me to make it home to the people waiting for them. Sadly, my cousin did not get that chance. However, I hope the attentiveness I apply to driving demonstrates that I am doing my part to help ensure everyone that shares the road with me will.