A Dangerous Addiction

Perhaps one of the most dangerous, lethal aspects of COVID is that motorists are more reckless than ever. Fewer cops, less chances of a citation. This results in MANY more chances of total mayhem, death and horrendous destruction awaiting these fools.

Light turns red? No problem, just run it. The chances of a cop sitting in wait for such fools is extremely rare. They're likely out on a call of a shooting, pedestrian hit-and-run or other dumbshittery. Totally obliterate the speed limit on a dangerous stretch of road? The youngest generation of drivers, given their usual disregard of their safety or that of others is not aware of the dangers. Without a full complement of police officers to check their bad habits, they are emboldened. 

The human mind is incapable, between the ages of 16-27, to fully understand "danger". It's a term to be thrown to the winds of youthful recklessness. Other people die in accidents, not "me". Today, they are free to test the bounds of their guardian angels' effectiveness because there is virtually nothing stopping them. Driving a 20-ton vehicle amongst them is increasingly terrifying. As a father, uncle and grandfather, I dread that knock on the door late at night where an officer/deputy awaits my sleepy unawareness of the impending doom they are about to drop onto my soul. I cannot fathom the weight of grief these public servants worldwide have to bear, then deliver, upon the loved ones of those who took one chance too many and paid the ultimate price.

I have lost so many dearly beloved people to traffic fatalities, the great majority of them due to their own recklessness. It's unfathomable to imagine, let alone grapple with within this torn soul. Each time I read of a traffic death either pedestrian or motorist, my heart grows yet weaker with grief. As an empath, as a father, I cannot bear the load these officers carry when they knock on yet another door of those who depend upon their loved ones' safe return.

When I was but a wee lad of 13, one of my most dear friends was killed in a car accident. It was her own damn fault. She was an impatient 25-year-old, behind a large truck on a dirt road kicking up dust in its wake, making my dear Miss Pat want to pass it. Given she was traveling a rarely-used back-country road she felt okay to swing around this slow-moving monstrosity. Only problem was the Ford F150 she couldn't see coming directly toward her in the opposite direction. In her Datsun Pickup was her 8-month-old son. She died in the collision with the much larger pickup. Her son nearly lost his eye and suffered a broken arm. Miss Pat was pregnant as well. Little J lost his mother, a brother/sister-to-be and her husband lost the love of his life. The driver of the Ford was a high-school student returning home. I lost someone I considered a sister. Subsequently, I lost her husband too. Afterward, Rod could not look at me without remembering his beloved Miss Pat. He shoved me away, because he had to in order to find some peace amidst such horrific sadness. It took me a few decades to understand this, but when I did it was even more devastating because only then did I realize not only my own loss, but also that which he felt.

This fatal accident severely-affected my teenage development. I mourned Miss Pat for decades. The sadness of her loss, even though we were not related, devastated me. It also gave me something my peers may not have had: a personal experience of what NOT to do behind the wheel. It taught me patience during a time this virtue is largely ignored due to the To lose my life and have so many people mourn me was not a legacy of any sort to leave behind.

I learned to drive from my father, who was fastidious where safety was concerned. He taught me that the safety and comfort of passengers should be first and foremost in mind when driving. My driver training consisted of Dad teaching me to not only pay attention to what I did behind the wheel, but also to consider the poor habits of others around me. Have a Plan, A,B,C and even D handy. Always keep a safe space between my vehicle and that of others. A safety "cushion", he told me. These lessons have lasted since he first allowed me behind the wheel at age 11. Dad told me he wanted to teach his sons to drive before we became teenagers, because we would listen better. Thank you, Dad.

It's infuriating to watch people drive these days. If their phone isn't in their hands it's in some "cradle" still commanding their attention. This may shield them from laws preventing phone use while driving, but it remains a severe distraction. It is impossible to keep your attention on the road ahead and around you when you are concentrating on an accessory device. Phones once only resided in our homes, firmly attached to a wall or from a cable to it. Now, they might as well be part of our physical anatomy. Given the absurdity of social media, we're more attached to an inanimate device than a command of our own safety and those who roll amongst us.

Today's society disgusts me. Only the worst of humanity seems worthy of attention. When I have exhausted my fill of this device's offering, it is shuffled away. Into a pocket, its connectivity delegated to a place only it dwells. My mind is better when clear of its influence. Yes, it keeps me directly connected to Beloved, and those to whom my love and friendship remains with me always. However, their love is best felt in my soul. As I live and breathe, their comradery fills me in places no device or social media app could ever reach.

My message to those who venture out behind the wheel of a vehicle is this: you are driving a potentially-deadly weapon. Treat it with respect. If someone makes a mistake, let it slide. Please avoid road rage. Instead, pull to the side of the road. Take three deep breaths. This triggers a relaxation which is much more preferable to a knock on the door of your loved ones. They need YOU, not the cop at the door explaining how you died. If someone cuts you off in traffic, it's truly not worthy of your overheated fury. Focus it instead upon some politician you dislike; they are more likely a safer bet to hate from afar than the immediacy of the dipshidiot ahead.

Peace, people. We need more of it. It does not emanate from a dangerous cell phone. Read Stephen King's  book "Cell". It was wise long before its' time. Today, we're living its reality, rather than laughing at its seeming absurdity a decade ago.