Sometimes it takes a calamity to slow you down. And other times, all you need is a near-miss.

When I was in high school, my family lived a good half hour’s drive from my school. On my sixteenth birthday my Mother took me to the bureau to get my beginner’s license. She was fed up with driving in to town to ferry me back and forth from social events.

By April, (April Fool’s Day maybe?) I had my full license. 

My Mother’s car was an early 1970’s orange Datsun. My parents were very generous with giving me those keys. It was to their advantage after all and I was happy to help them out.

That car was a blast. I have very fond memories of friends piling in and off we would go. The problem was… it was too much fun. My attention was on the chatter, the laughter, the sheer fun of being sixteen years old in a car packed full of friends. Five alarm fires anyone?

And speed? Oh my. Like I said, we lived outside the city. Those country roads were perfect for speeding. Truth be told, I was not always sober either. 

I will also admit to having had a habit of running red lights. It’s not that I was intentionally running them. It was just that sometimes, amid the distractions, the chatting and laughing, I just didn’t notice them. 

What finally brought me around was when I went through a red light and had to step on the gas to avoid being t-boned on the passenger side. I still remember who the passenger was. She’s probably reading this…

I had been distracted by a friend in another car waiting at the light on the opposite side of the intersection. We were waving and laughing at each other. Always laughing. The car in the right lane beside my car started to turn on the red, as was proper. In my peripheral vision, I saw the car move and assumed I could move too, but the light was still red. As we moved out into the intersection, one of my passengers — who was paying more attention than I was, shouted “GO!” and I did. Thankfully.

The next day, the friend who had witnessed this as he sat on the opposite side of the intersection approached me. He explained, with pencil and paper, that the car crossing the intersection had slammed on their brakes and did not stop until it was well past the middle of the intersection. It could have been a terrible crash.

I started taking my driving more seriously after that.

I still sped. I didn’t stop that habit until was in my mid-twenties and got an exorbitant ticket and lost two demerit points for two years. On the exact day I was to get the demerit points back, I got the exact same ticket for the exact same amount, and lost the same two demerit points all over again. Exactly. 

I slowed down after that. Sometimes you may not need a calamity, but you do need the universe to hit you over the head. Thank you universe.

Nowadays I think I am a pretty good driver. The irony of my early days of bad driving was that I’d had lessons. I knew to brake going into a curve and accelerate coming out of it. I could parallel park on a dime. But the lessons did not prepare me for being sixteen while driving. 

Stay safe everyone.

Anne Milne is an every Sunday blogger.  Facebook or Twitter.