Stop Sign

Every day I see that stop sign. As I get closer my grip tightens and my eyes target the rear view mirror. I start rolling forward towards that white line, but my mind rolls back. Back to that day. A wave of emotions flow over me as I rewatch my mother's body snap forward, only to be caught by the grey polyester seatbelt. Guilt fills my head. Everyone says there was nothing I could have done, but there must have been something.

Today when I drive down the road I am triggered by the constant display of immortality. The demonstration of invincibility shown by millions. The lack of regard for not only the safety of oneself but the safety of others. When I watch that white Chevrolet Camaro spit fire as it weaves inches between cars. When I hear the roaring of an engine as it shifts gears only to pass me at 130km/h. When I witness a teenager enter a vehicle after taking down his third beer. A hailstorm of anger rains down upon me. Thunder crashes throughout my body hitting every nerve. All rational is lost as I reflect on the nightmares I have just witnessed. All because of that day.

It was just like every other morning, I tied up my boots, threw on my coat and headed out to the car. As I opened the door I was greeted by a wall of cold air and wind, I raced to zip up my coat. The neighbours next door were in awe as they jumped in the fresh layers of powdered snow, waiting for their mom to drag them into the car. The trees were glazed with ice and shimmering from the reflection of the sun; they were beautiful, yet terrifying. Everything around me was covered in a thick, slippery layer of ice, and that included the roadways. I skated my way down the driveway doing everything I could to stay on two feet. I had made it to the car and was shivering in the driver's seat waiting for my mom. After two months of driving to school I had become a pro, how much harder could driving on the ice be? My mom finally entered the car and gave me the usual spiel: “Go slow”, “Take your time”, “Be careful”. I had heard it a hundred times before. I shifted into reverse and out of the driveway on the way to my friend Brad's house.

Just two days prior I had completed my 5th driving lesson. My driving instructor George had taught me the basics of defensive driving and collision avoidance, which at the time I thought I had mastered. The number one rule that was constantly being drilled into my head was to be observant. That meant checking my mirrors and blind spots an absurd amount of times. Almost as if every time I took a breath I was expected to see three hundred and sixty degrees around the vehicle. It was ridiculous.

I drove the usual route, down the street, to the left, first right and into Brad's

driveway where he was patiently waiting. He entered the car and we headed to the school. The ice was seeming to get more dangerous on every turn. Even with snow tires and all-wheel drive I was still fishtailing turns. I was yelled at one more time for going too fast as I approached that stop sign. The sign I had passed a hundred times before. To my surprise the slight downhill slope looked clear of any danger.

Unfortunately, I was wrong. From the top of the hill I witnessed something shocking. An old red Chevrolet had drifted right past that thick white line through what seemed to be an invisible patch of black ice. The tires were spinning vigorously as the driver attempted to straighten out into his lane. As I started rolling down the hill towards the stop sign I was greeted with a forceful beating vibration under my foot. The ABS kicked in and I had no control of when I would stop. It was like I was watching from behind a glass window. All I could do is pray that I would stop before I landed in the middle of the intersection. My grip tightened as I watched my car slide down the slippery roadway, only to stop just before that white line. A sigh of relief fell over me, but the worst was yet to come.

My foot eased off the brake and suddenly my body was thrown forward, the seat belt dug into my chest like a knife, piercing right through my heart. I was in shock, frozen like the ice below me. It wasn’t until moments later I had realized what had happened. A small blue Honda had slid down the same ice patch I had just struggled through. Unfortunately, they were unable to stop. My mom grabbed my arm, looked me in the eye and signaled for me to pull over. I slowly released my foot from the brake turning towards the curb. The world moved in slow motion as I turned that corner. The car had finally come to a stop by the curb but now my mind had taken off. Every emotion was flying around in my head, but only one of them stuck. Guilt. How could I have let this happen? Why wasn’t I checking my mirrors? Was my mom okay? Was Brad okay? I thought back to what George had taught me, I could have avoided this. I should have avoided this. I couldn’t convince myself to finish that drive to school.

Every day I see that stop sign. As I come to a stop at that white line I am reminded of where my anger stems from. This is why when I witness the reckless acts of irresponsibility shown by millions, I am so triggered. The responsibility of which you take on when you turn that key, is unmeasurable. All I can do is hope. Hope that it doesn’t take you, what it took me, to realize that.