Uncle Daniel was on his way home. He was almost there. He was distracted for only a moment. That moment was enough to change everything. We live in a world where a single buzz in your pocket can decide whether someone “is” or “was.” 

He was on the final stretch of his journey home, the comforting familiarity of his neighborhood just around the bend. The sun dipped low in the sky, blanketing the world in warm, golden hues, while the gentle hum of his car’s engine blended with the soft melodies emanating from the radio. As he navigated the winding road, a sudden buzz interrupted the serenity, emanating from the depths of his pocket. It was a sound he had become all too accustomed to, the digital ping of a notification that demanded his attention. He glanced down for just a heartbeat, a moment of distraction that seemed inconsequential at the time. Yet, in that fleeting instant, the world shifted violently. 

The tragic consequences of that one brief lapse were hard to fathom. My uncle’s accident made that reality painfully clear. His crash wasn’t caused by recklessness or speeding, but by a brief distraction that could have cost him his life. 

To me, impaired driving doesn’t only mean driving under the influence of alcohol or drugs. It means driving under any condition that clouds judgment, slows reaction time, or divides attention. Distraction, fatigue, and emotional distress can impair a driver just as much as a substance can. Yet, many people, even those who have completed driver’s education or traffic school, often misunderstand this. They tend to associate impaired driving solely with being drunk or high, not realizing that a quick glance at a phone, a drowsy commute, or an emotionally charged moment can all be forms of impairment that put lives at risk. 

Grieving someone who “is” alive, instead of someone who “was” alive, is a strange concept. When I saw my uncle in the hospital, I felt an overwhelming rush of relief that he was still here, that I could still say he is my uncle, not that he was. But that relief was tangled with something else: anger. Anger that he had risked his life, and the lives of everyone else on the road, for a moment of distraction. 

It was hard to reconcile those feelings, to be grateful he survived while also knowing how easily his choice could have made him another statistic. According to the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration, more than 3,000 people were killed in 2023 in motor vehicle crashes involving distracted drivers. That number isn’t just a statistic. It represents thousands of families who never got the relief I did. It represents people whose loved ones went from “is” to “was” because of a moment’s carelessness. My uncle’s crash opened my eyes to how fragile that line is and how quickly life can change when someone decides to look down instead of forward. 

For a long time after my uncle’s accident, I told myself, “It could never happen to me.” I was careful, responsible, and aware of the dangers of impaired and distracted driving—or at least, I thought I was. A few months ago, that illusion shattered. I was in my driveway, typing an address into my GPS, when my car lurched forward and hit the garage door. No one was hurt, and the damage was minor, but the sound of that sudden impact made my heart drop. It didn’t take alcohol, drugs, or a highway. It only took a glance away from the road. The experience was a humbling reminder that impaired driving isn’t something that happens to “other people.” It’s something that can happen to anyone, anywhere, in an instant. 

These experiences taught me that awareness alone isn’t enough. Many young drivers understand the risks but still underestimate their vulnerability. To truly prevent impaired driving (whether caused by texting, exhaustion, or substances), we need to change that mindset. 

Driver’s education and traffic school courses can play a crucial role in shifting these attitudes. The most effective programs go beyond rules and statistics; they make the consequences real. Courses could incorporate simulated experiences showing how alcohol, fatigue, or texting slows reaction time and judgment. Hearing firsthand accounts from survivors or families affected by impaired driving can also make a powerful impact. When young drivers see and feel the consequences rather than just hearing about them, they begin to understand that “it could never happen to me” is never true. 

Peer-led initiatives can also be incredibly effective. Teens and young adults are more likely to listen to their peers than to authority figures. Student-led workshops, campus awareness weeks, and safe driving pledge drives can help normalize responsible driving behavior. Partnering with on-campus organizations to co-sponsor events could further amplify the message, creating a united front across student communities. These programs don’t just educate; they build a sense of shared responsibility among young people to look out for one another and make safer choices behind the wheel. 

Social media is another powerful tool for spreading awareness about impaired driving. Campaigns like the CDC’s “Tips From Former Smokers” series have shown how personal storytelling can shift perspectives. Both use raw, emotional narratives to make the risks of seemingly small choices feel real and urgent. A distracted or impaired driving campaign could take the same approach, featuring real stories from survivors, families, and peers, paired with clear actions viewers can take to protect themselves and others. 

I have learned that preventing impaired driving starts with accountability. My knowledge, experiences, and training can influence others to make safer decisions, whether that means reminding friends to put their phones away, offering to be a designated driver, or speaking up when someone is too tired or emotional to drive safely. Every voice matters, and every choice can save a life. 

Impaired driving is more than just a violation of the law; it’s a moment where attention, judgment, and responsibility break down. My uncle’s accident and my own near-miss showed me how easy it is to cross that line, but also how possible it is to prevent it. Through education, awareness, and action, I believe we can help ensure that fewer families ever have to experience the shift from “is” to “was.”