The toll plaza loomed suddenly out of the fog and I realized in that split second before impact that it was too late to correct my error in judgment, and then I hit the steel I-beam head on.
My name is Danny Marshall. I am 19-years-old and a freshman in college. I began my Monday drive back to college in the early morning pre-dawn. My mom, as usual, had hugged me good bye and told me twice to be careful driving. Also as usual, with my mp3 player plugged into the sound system and a super large coffee in the cup holder, I set the cruise control at 75 miles per hour and settled in for the 100-mile drive.
Not so usual was the dense fog shrouding the roadways creating zero visibility in some places, but I didn’t care. I needed to get to school.
It seems everything happened so fast that I hardly had time to react. About an hour into the drive, I saw a sign, pay toll one mile, but that mile went a lot faster than expected, especially since I could hardly see more than a few feet in front of the pickup truck.
Out of nowhere the toll plaza and red brake lights of cars appeared. I was moving too fast to stop in time. I swerved to avoid the cars, hit several traffic cones blocking an empty lane and watched the airbags deploy as my body slammed forward with the impact. The one and only smart thing I did that morning was put on my seatbelt and hug my mom good bye.
A toll booth attendant pulled me from the wreckage. I remember asking if I’d hit anyone.
No, thank God. I’d missed the other cars. The police arrived, looked at the accident scene and cited me for “driving improperly for conditions,” meaning I was driving too fast. Skid marks and the truck wrapped around the I-beam told the whole story.
By the time my parents arrived with my girlfriend at the accident scene, my truck, my high school graduation gift from my parents only seven months ago, had already been towed away.
The toll booth attendant told my parents that he thought I would be dead when he got to the truck. He wasn’t being unkind. He was stating a fact.
When the overhead garage door opened where my truck was stored, I watched as my mother’s face crumpled. She cried. Dad cried. My girlfriend cried.
The only part of my truck that remained intact was the driver’s seat. If there had been a passenger in the truck, it would have meant certain death. How close did I come to dying? Just a few inches off center. I was lucky to be alive. But it wasn’t over yet.
Once we got home, the situation hit me full on as if I was feeling the impact all over again. This accident didn’t just affect me. Everyone I love and everyone who loves me would have suffered immeasurably if I had been hurt or killed. If I had killed someone else, I could possibly have wound up in jail for vehicular manslaughter. The suffering I could have inflicted on people I didn’t even know would have been tremendous.
In retrospect, I know my professor would have understood me being late. My stupid mistake cost me my truck, a traffic fine and some temporary pain from bruises, but what affected me most was seeing my family’s reaction to what could have been. I have asked for forgiveness, yet knowing that I caused them so much pain will haunt me for many years.
I’ve been given a second chance, but many teen-age drivers are not so lucky. The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration reports, teen drivers tend to underestimate dangerous situations or do not recognize hazardous driving conditions. Each year more than 5,000 teens between the ages of 16 to 20 die from fatal injuries sustained in vehicular accidents. Approximately 400,000 teen drivers age 16 to 20 are seriously injured. Speeding is the number one reason teenagers die in car crashes.
According to these statistics, I am lucky to be alive and am here to ask other teenage drivers, “Will you be able to say the same?”
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The toll plaza loomed suddenly out of the fog and I realized in that split second before impact that it was too late to correct my error in judgment, and then I hit the steel I-beam head on.
My name is Danny Marshall. I am 19-years-old and a freshman in college. I began my Monday drive back to college in the early morning pre-dawn. My mom, as usual, had hugged me good bye and told me twice to be careful driving. Also as usual, with my mp3 player plugged into the sound system and a super large coffee in the cup holder, I set the cruise control at 75 miles per hour and settled in for the 100-mile drive.
Not so usual was the dense fog shrouding the roadways creating zero visibility in some places, but I didn’t care. I needed to get to school.
It seems everything happened so fast that I hardly had time to react. About an hour into the drive, I saw a sign, pay toll one mile, but that mile went a lot faster than expected, especially since I could hardly see more than a few feet in front of the pickup truck.
Out of nowhere the toll plaza and red brake lights of cars appeared. I was moving too fast to stop in time. I swerved to avoid the cars, hit several traffic cones blocking an empty lane and watched the airbags deploy as my body slammed forward with the impact. The one and only smart thing I did that morning was put on my seatbelt and hug my mom good bye.
A toll booth attendant pulled me from the wreckage. I remember asking if I’d hit anyone.
No, thank God. I’d missed the other cars. The police arrived, looked at the accident scene and cited me for “driving improperly for conditions,” meaning I was driving too fast. Skid marks and the truck wrapped around the I-beam told the whole story.
By the time my parents arrived with my girlfriend at the accident scene, my truck, my high school graduation gift from my parents only seven months ago, had already been towed away.
The toll booth attendant told my parents that he thought I would be dead when he got to the truck. He wasn’t being unkind. He was stating a fact.
When the overhead garage door opened where my truck was stored, I watched as my mother’s face crumpled. She cried. Dad cried. My girlfriend cried.
The only part of my truck that remained intact was the driver’s seat. If there had been a passenger in the truck, it would have meant certain death. How close did I come to dying? Just a few inches off center. I was lucky to be alive. But it wasn’t over yet.
Once we got home, the situation hit me full on as if I was feeling the impact all over again. This accident didn’t just affect me. Everyone I love and everyone who loves me would have suffered immeasurably if I had been hurt or killed. If I had killed someone else, I could possibly have wound up in jail for vehicular manslaughter. The suffering I could have inflicted on people I didn’t even know would have been tremendous.
In retrospect, I know my professor would have understood me being late. My stupid mistake cost me my truck, a traffic fine and some temporary pain from bruises, but what affected me most was seeing my family’s reaction to what could have been. I have asked for forgiveness, yet knowing that I caused them so much pain will haunt me for many years.
I’ve been given a second chance, but many teen-age drivers are not so lucky. The National Highway Traffic Safety Administration reports, teen drivers tend to underestimate dangerous situations or do not recognize hazardous driving conditions. Each year more than 5,000 teens between the ages of 16 to 20 die from fatal injuries sustained in vehicular accidents. Approximately 400,000 teen drivers age 16 to 20 are seriously injured. Speeding is the number one reason teenagers die in car crashes.
According to these statistics, I am lucky to be alive and am here to ask other teenage drivers, “Will you be able to say the same?”
