Growing up in the Midwest, hearing stories about reckless or impaired driving was almost part of everyday life. It happened so often that the danger behind it became easy to ignore. Walking through the school hallways, you might hear someone brag, “I was going so fast I hit 130,” like it was something to be proud of. Others would laugh and talk about being so drunk or high the night before that they “could barely see straight.” These conversations were not secret or whispered. They were normal, loud, and casual. The more I heard them, the more it felt like dangerous driving was simply part of being a teenager, something everyone did and no one worried about.
The reality, though, is that this behavior is not normal at all. It should never be something people joke about or treat lightly. Impaired driving kills thousands of people every year, yet many communities, especially in small towns and rural areas, have become numb to the danger. People hear these stories so often that they stop reacting to them. When teenagers constantly hear their peers talk casually about drunk driving, speeding, or texting behind the wheel, the behavior becomes normalized, not because it is safe but because it is familiar. This false sense of normalcy makes impaired driving even more dangerous, because people stop realizing how quickly a reckless decision can destroy a life.
As these kinds of conversations became more common around me, I started to understand how easy it is to become desensitized. Even though I knew impaired driving was dangerous, the way people joked about it made the consequences feel far away, like something that only happened to other people. I never thought I would find myself in a situation where someone else’s reckless driving put my life in danger. That belief changed sooner than I expected.
When I turned sixteen and got my license, I thought I finally understood freedom. I had a 2015 Chevy Captiva, maybe not the coolest car, and definitely a “mom car,” but it was mine, and I loved it. I imagined all the independence that came with driving: going wherever I wanted, taking spontaneous trips, and feeling like an adult. My mom, however, had different plans. She allowed me to drive only to school and work at first. With Life360 tracking every mile I went, every speed I hit, and every place I stopped, I realized my freedom was limited. Over time, I earned more privileges, but the highway remained mostly off-limits. At the time, I thought her rules were annoying. Now I understand she was trying to protect me from exactly the kind of driver I would meet later.
For a while, I believed that if I followed the rules and paid attention, I would always be safe. What I did not realize was that sometimes the danger comes from someone else, not from anything you do. I learned this the hard way on my 17th birthday.
It was a Sunday, and my friend and I spent the day in St. Joseph celebrating. We went thrifting, got dinner, and enjoyed the kind of simple, fun day that makes birthdays memorable. On the way home, we took the backroads. There is a two-way intersection near our homes that can be tricky. The main road sits on a hill, while the intersecting road cuts straight across it. When you stop at the intersection, you cannot always see very far over the hill, so you have to be patient. My friend and I sat there, waiting for what felt like forever. When it finally looked clear, we started crossing.
A few seconds later, everything went wrong. A car came flying over the hill going nearly sixty miles per hour, even though the speed limit was thirty. The man behind the wheel was on his phone, not paying attention at all. He did not slow down or swerve. He did not react until it was too late. He slammed into the side of our car, throwing us across the road and into a ditch. We narrowly missed hitting a light pole that could have caused even more serious injuries or worse.
When the car stopped moving, everything felt unreal. My friend and I were shaken and terrified, but we were alive. We escaped with only minor injuries, which is less than a lot of people in situations like ours can say. The man who hit us walked away too, but the truth is that his careless decision could have changed all our lives forever.
That crash changed me. It showed me that impaired driving does not just mean driving drunk or high. It includes texting, speeding, or doing anything that takes your attention away from the road. Before, hearing people talk about reckless driving felt normal. After the crash, I understood how dangerous that mindset is. Impaired driving is not something to laugh about. It is something to take seriously, because the consequences are real.
My experience taught me that responsible driving is not just about protecting yourself but also about protecting everyone around you. One person’s careless moment can become another person’s life-changing tragedy. And that is why talking honestly about impaired driving matters. Pretending it is normal keeps people unsafe. Acknowledging the danger and choosing to drive responsibly can save lives.