Cliffside

Leather squeaks under my Mums iron grip on the steering wheel of our Toyota Sienna. We crawl along a cliffside surrounded by jagged chunks of rock and sparse aspen trees. On the left, a sheer face of rock threatening to unload a rockslide given the wrong glance. On the right, nothing but air. You can see all the way down, to the houses in the valley I could cover with my thumb. I glance out the window, staring into the abyss all too casually. The cliffside is a familiar site by now, considering it’s the route we take to school.

Every morning on the bus and every night in my mom’s clunky old car, we traverse this safety hazard. Staring out the window quickly grows boring, despite the incredible mountains all around. Luckily it is mixed up every once in a while by a semi truck or camper van, wrapped around a guardrail. Hanging from it like their vehicular lives depended on it.

One year, a semi truck carrying corn fell off the first bend. Tearing open its haul and spilling the contents down the cliff. We hiked down the cliff and found ourselves up to our waste in corn. We brought bales home to pack and store in our freezers. Next summer when we drove around the first bend, you could see a small patch at the bottom, where a field of corn was growing. Black and brown bears would come and eat the crop, it didn’t last long.

Another time as we drove by we saw the edge of a guardrail torn to shreds, like a metal flag, frozen in an intense gust. Nobody saw a car though, we didn’t think much of it. Figuring the vehicle must have already been pulled out. Later that night we received a call, informing us that that crash had killed one of my best friends’ fathers.

A man that had taken me camping, to skateboarding competitions, cooked me food, and made me laugh was gone. Erased from existence by the cliffside we drove past every day. But my life was affected. I got to see first hand what this did to my friend. At first they were inconsolable and didn’t want to speak to anyone. Locking themselves in their house. His mother helped care for him.

Eventually he began showing back up to school and the skate park. His smile returned with him. But never quite as full as before. My mum told me “You never move on from these things. You just learn to live with them.” She couldn’t be more right. The loss of a loved one stays with you forever, especially when so abrupt. I am sure he wakes up every day thinking about the last words he said to his father. Wondering how things might have been different.

People drove the cliff slower for a bit. But eventually repetition creates normality. People again grew comfortable with the cliffside. The death this cliff promised faded from people’s minds and cars began speeding again. Not me though.

People sometimes would honk behind me as I drove, strictly 40mph, up the cliffside. They couldn’t overtake because of the bends in the road and so a long procession of them would build up behind me. Making a conga line of law abiding drivers, willing or not. Until we eventually reached a strait. Then they would take off, their engines roaring as they passed my mom’s Toyota Sienna. Even when I was late for school, or anything else. As soon as my speedometer clicked over the speed limits I knew so well. I would think “It’s better to get there late, than not at all.” Another one of my mums sayings.

Speeding, not stopping at a stop sign, not checking your mirrors, using lanes incorrectly, I all take very seriously. Because it is serious. Each and every time we operate a vehicle we put our own lives and others on the line with one slim barrier between us and death: traffic laws. These laws are in place to stop those phone calls, lifetimes of grieving and pain, and horrific accidents that can happen.

Lots of people, especially young men like to boast about speeding, getting places faster than others. I hate hearing these conversations brought up. Because traffic laws are vitally important for everyone involved. I have seen the consequences they can cause first hand and I would not wish such things on anyone.

Driver’s education is vital for people to understand the serious nature of driving accidents and how they can protect themselves, and others from experiencing them. Because for getting somewhere five minutes early, you would forfeit your life? It makes no sense, no matter the situation. Getting somewhere late is far better than the image of my mother grieving, my brother inconsolable, and my family left wishing for five more minutes with me.