It’s one of those things we say without thinking about, without pausing to consider the full meaning of the words. Just like “see you later,” the phrase “drive safe” is often dolled out or responded to without much thought.
However, if you pause for a second and let the words sink in, the person telling you to “drive safe” is telling you to do a lot of things. Obey the speed limit, put your seatbelt on, keep two hands on the wheel (preferably at 10 and 2), do not have the radio too loud or people in the car too distracting, do not text or call on your cell phone, especially while the driving conditions are dangerous and more.
One week ago today, many of my friends and family told me to “drive safe,” and “don’t get in a hurry.” All of this seemed perfectly reasonable, as there would be no need for me to rush going home; the food would still be there no matter how late I arrived, and my mother would still hug me and say she missed me and loves me no matter what time of the night I got home. I knew not to go too fast, to wear my seatbelt and overall not to drive dangerously.
However, two hours after leaving Starkville, I was hydroplaning, spinning on 1-59 South and skidding sideways towards a very solid metal light pole on the right shoulder of the road.
The crunching of metal and the deafening “boom!” of the impact shook me to my bones. My head jerked from left to right as the side curtain airbag deployed in a plume of dusty smoke. I had just had a high-speed accident, but the reality had not sunk in yet.
At first I could not catch my breath, and I was in a lot of pain; I remember just breathing in and out deeply and groaning similar to the way Peter Griffin would after hurting his knee. After a few moments, I reached around for my phone. Finally finding it, I attempted to dial 911, but was too shaken up to press the right combination of 9+1+1+Call Button.
Looking out of my driver side window, I saw a truck with its hazard lights on at the top of the shoulder and figured he had probably already called the authorities. The back windshield was shattered, and rain and debris was falling into my car, soaking the leather. The locks were jammed on every door, so I rolled down the driver’s side window and reverse-Dukes of Hazzard-ed it out of my car.
Taking a step back, I realized how much deep crap I was in. The car was totaled, simple as that. The trunk and rear area were bent a full 60 to 90 degrees inward towards the car, and the rear axle and frame had to have been screwed up.
The trunk was dented in more places than I could count, and the car itself just looked pitiful – sitting there in a muddy grave surrounded by rain and leaves falling from swaying trees around it. It had carved out its own little resting place in the woods alongside Interstate 59 at exit 97.
To add insult to injury, the exhaust pipe had been knocked off the car and was covered in mud and filth below it. My graduation gift, a 2005 black Honda Accord, was ruined. It is truly a miracle that I, or anyone else, was not seriously injured or killed that day. I walked away without a scratch on my body.
It occurred to me later that several things contributed to this. I was wearing a seatbelt, the airbags worked, the pole hit in just the right place on the car (at the rear near the gas tank cap) so that I wasn’t injured by shattered glass or crushed to death. Also, I wasn’t speeding, not even close. Due to the poor weather conditions, I was going 55 mph on the interstate that evening, and that very possibly saved my life.
We all have seen “that guy” who peels out of the parking lot, tires squealing with the smell of burnt rubber in his wake, or “that girl” who’s chatting away on her cell phone at a red light, not noticing when it turns green until several impatient drivers behind her honk at her to move.
The point is, these acts aren’t just annoying, they’re also dangerous. “That guy” who peeled out of the parking lot is the same guy who goes 15 mph over the speed limit and ends up T-boning a family of four at an intersection trying to beat a yellow light. “That girl” is the same one who runs a motorcyclist off the road because she drifts into his lane while texting her best friend about plans later that night.
The overall message here is this: Take the journey as seriously as the destination because it is. You are in a one-ton hunk of metal barreling down the road at speeds of 50, 60 or 70 mph. That just spells disaster.
As you are out and about this weekend enjoying the great music and a Bulldog victory over LSU, keep a few things in mind: Do not drive or let anyone drive who is intoxicated. Wear your seatbelt, and make sure your passengers do too. And lastly, most importantly, speed kills. Do not get in a hurry because it is better to get to your destination a few minutes late than not to get there at all.
Ben Leiker is a sophomore majoring in biological engineering. He can be contacted at [email protected].