The first thing I notice about people is their hands. Big or small, smooth or wrinkly, pristine or scarred, hands tell a story. When I placed mine at 10 and 2 for the first time, they were books open to a chapter on my pure nerves. Still, beneath the trembling, that spark of excitement burned bright as I anxiously gripped the wheel tightly. Soon these hands would see the endless sea of roads. And maybe a few jaywalking squirrels along the way. I grew up on Fast and Furious, Talladega Nights and Smokey & the Bandit. So yeah, I was no stranger to speeding… at least on screen. Or when I played Mario Kart. In real life? Let’s just say my “need for speed” wasn’t that “furious”. While my palms gripped the wheel tightly, ready to push my limits, my nervousness pushed the breaks. Like a backseat driver that would never shut up. I took a deep breath, in the middle of an empty parking lot, switched gears and pushed the gas pedal. The guidelines surrounding me blurred into streaks of light. For a second, it felt like I had just pulled the lever to enter hyperspace— a tunnel with no end in sight. Then I took a quick glance at my speedometer and I was… Going. 25. Miles. Per. Hour. ONLY 25!? If my vision was warping like that at a measly 25 miles per hour in an empty parking lot, what would happen if I actually tried to drive like Vin Diesel? Would road signs melt into blobs? Would cars turn into steals of metallic color? In that moment, my brain was spinning faster than the axles. That’s when it clicked: speeding doesn’t just distort my view of the road, it can distort my judgement. And judgement, I've learned, is the heart of impaired driving.

 Putting aside the whole “if you’re not first you’re last” philosophy, fast driving may look glamorous on screen, but the reality of “putting the pedal to the medal” is really just a dangerous illusion. Sure, the thrill of chasing F1 glory feels thrilling for about 5 seconds, but our streets are not race tracks, and the consequences can last a lifetime. What I realized that day in the parking lot topping a heroic 25 miles per hour, was that driving isn’t about how fast you can push the machine. After all, one moment of tiredness, a quick distraction or a tiny lapse in judgement are ways to remind us that physics always wins.

To most people, including myself at one point, “impaired driving” basically meant the use of alcohol or drugs. But, impairment can be any moment where awareness dulls, vision narrows, or reaction time decides to take a nap. And what makes impaired driving so misunderstood(even by people who’ve sat through the endless hours of drivers ed)? It’s not always as dramatic as being blacked out “drunk.” A lot of drivers forget that stress, fatigue and those seemingly harmless texts can be just as blinding as any substance. After all, texts don’t come with giant warning labels plastered in big bold letters flashing: put the phone down!

That’s why driver education matters now more than ever. These programs don’t just throw rules at new drivers; they teach the “why” behind it all. They can show, sometimes a little too realistically, how a single distracting second can turn an excited first drive into a life long what if.

 Safe driving, I’ve learned, helps the world stop feeling that a blur I’m fighting and replaces it with the kind of control no action movie can replicate. And the safer I drove, the more fun it oddly became. Suddenly, I wasn’t just protecting myself; I was looking out for the parents playfully swinging their giggling kids as they crossed the street. Or the stealthy cyclists who always appear out of thin air just to hug the shoulder lane. Even the chubby squirrels that never fail to dart out into the street right as I turn. There’s an unexpected ease that comes to driving clearly. No need to white knuckle the wheel or spike adrenaline because someone in front of me braked like they were testing their airbags.

And somewhere in all this, I realized I have a responsibility too. With what I know now, whether it is reminding friends to put the phone down or offering to drive when something's tired, I can shift the mindset around me. Maybe even be the quiet push to get someone to choose safety before speed.

So while Hollywood sells the fantasy that raw speed is the culmination of what driving is really about, I’ve come to feel the opposite. Safe driving is ideal not because it slows me down, but because it gives me something speed never will: the clarity to see the road not as a race, but an open book waiting to be read by the hands that hold the wheel.