The Lifeline

“Okay, I left your lunches on the counter. Don’t forget to make yourself cereal before you go to school and leave on time so you won’t miss the bus again! Love you!” My mom said all this as she was stepping out the door. It would be a long day for her; she had to be at her job at 7:30 and wouldn’t be leaving until 11 pm, but even though it was draining, she fought through for her family. We all went through the same motions every morning; wake up, brush our teeth, get ready, and kiss mom goodbye while getting everything else ready to go to school. Then we would all meet back up again at around 7 pm when she would get back home and go straight to cooking dinner for her very hungry family. It was a regular day.

She was a fearless woman who could take on the world with one hand while using the other to hold her children or stir the pot to prevent whatever she was cooking from burning. So, she didn’t give it a second thought as she pressed down the gas pedal, not even glancing at the needle as it crept its way past 80 miles per hour. The GPS marked her travel to be approximately 45 minutes; she always made it there in 30 minutes or less. Driving in the right lane was rare. The left lane met her pace. Those who went the speed limit annoyed her, and those who didn’t move out of her way were sure to hear her little car honk behind them until she could go through. She was a busy woman; who could blame her?

But this day was different. The semi in front of her was going too slow for the rhythm of the interstate. As she turned on her blinker to pass it, she couldn’t help but notice that the tires moved back and forth across the white dashed line, moving the whole body like a snake slithering through a field of grass. Passing semis was nothing new to her. You just looked forward and pressed on the gas until you could see its face in the rearview mirror; easy. This time something told her that it wouldn’t go as smoothly. But she was running late, and she was sure everything would be alright.

As she pressed on the gas, the moving snake slithered more and more into her lane, pushing her across the white line, across the gravel, and onto the grass that plunged into a ditch. The car shook mercilessly, bouncing her up and down. Her vision blurred, and her knuckles turned white as her hands gripped the wheel, she was grabbing onto her lifeline. As she fought against the pulling, it all finally stopped. We are unsure of how she managed to escape the inevitable, catching the edge and disappearing out of the semi’s field of view, rolling until she would finally be in the depths of the ditch, either unconscious or dead.

She was one of the lucky few who saved herself from the dangers of the road. For my mother, the threat brought by the facility of stepping on the gas to get to her destination faster. It was spending an extra few minutes in bed in the morning because she knew that time would be on her side if she exceeded the limits. She never counted on anything going out of the ordinary. Driving had become such a normal part of her life that it became as harmless as brushing her teeth. This harmless act is the fourth leading cause of death in the United States. For others, this danger may have been brought by those sips of alcohol that they were sure wouldn’t affect them—or by that one text message, they just had to see. Whatever it may have been, it has claimed the innocent lives of tens of thousands of people year after year.

Driving is a double-edged sword. Being up to 20 times more efficient than humans, our lives have exponentially sped up. From receiving our Amazon Prime packages in two days to allowing us to explore new places and create memories, it is a part of life. It is for this reason that by the time we turn 15, our eyes glimmer upon looking at the steering wheel like a child looking at the nicest toy on the shelf. It is why the first time we sit in the driver’s seat, our palms become sweaty and our heart thumps a little faster because the privilege of conquering the world is finally ours. On this high, it becomes easy to forget we are trusting our lives to a highly technologically advanced tin can, propelled by wheels of rubber connected through iron tubes. Driving at dangerously high speeds daily, we run on the invisible hope that we will miraculously get from point A to B. We run on the hope that there won’t be any glass on the road, and every driver will be sober and awake. Hope that the sun won’t be blinding, and the tires won’t glide on the water if it’s raining. That a deer won’t cross the road, and that the phone won’t ring. We drive with the unspoken prayer that we, and everyone else on the road with us, will survive. Driving is not to be taken lightly.