[Kim Cottrell]

My parents met when my father almost hit my mother with his car in the parking lot of Roseburg High School in 1954. He wasn’t paying attention. He felt so bad that he offered her a ride home. They married a year later.

In his mid-20s, my father was involved in a fatal collision in which it was never determined who was at fault, my father and his friend or the family driving through the night.

Consequently, when I began to drive, my parents were adamant that I understand the consequences of my actions. My father particularly, drilled into me that my vehicle was a weapon and could do fatal harm if I got careless or reckless. Over and over, I was taught to be hyper-vigilant, to drive defensively, to anticipate what was coming and make space for others.

I ended up working at a Portland trauma hospital for many years and I used to test individuals who had lost consciousness to see if they had memory and thinking problems as a result of their accident. Over and over I saw the horrific ways that accidents changed people’s lives. Even after seemingly small accidents, those who had lost consciousness were never the same, they frequently had chronic debilitating problems. Often, they couldn’t work again.

And yet, maybe when you hear these stories you can’t relate because they happened to someone else. But I can relate. As careful as I am, I had an accident 2 years ago. It was a very black night, with rain and cloud cover but no moon and very few lights. I was going through an intersection notorious for accidents. I looked and looked and despite my looking, I turned and was broadsided by a car that seemingly appeared from nowhere. The other driver screamed at me, wondering what I was doing. Apparently, he couldn’t see me either. Later, haunted by whether it was my fault, I returned to view the scene. Not far from the point of collision, there was a dip in the road that likely concealed my car from the car that had collided with me, and concealed his car from my view.

I wasn’t hurt but I’ve lost my nerve and my patience. I drive slower than I used to and more people honk at me, even though they are speeding. One man was furious that I left a bit of distance between me and the car in front of me when I was traveling down Taylors Ferry toward Macadam. He tailgated me all the way down the hill and passed me as soon as he could, flipping me the finger as he speeded away.

I don’t care any more. I’m not gong to speed just to accommodate someone who isn’t paying attention. I will slow down in areas where children play. I will leave space for those who signal to make lane changes instead of speeding up to keep them out. I won’t tailgate just to keep someone behind me happy. I watch and see who is waiting to cross the street and I stop for them.

And, I stay vigilant, no matter what my mode of transportation. I know from personal experience that awareness saves lives. Even though I did have an accident, I was reminded that paying attention to what is going on around you is the best way to be safe, regardless of how you get where you want to go.