I’m a retired Volunteer Firefighter. . .and driving terrifies me

IIt was night. I was driving with my wife Laurie and daughter Sully on Old Santa Fe Trail. The light turned green as we approached the intersection with Paseo De Peralta.

We were just about to enter the intersection when suddenly, a car on Paseo ran the red light in front of us at high speed. I braked, and we missed being hit. It all happened so fast that I didn't have time to be adrenalized.

And it brought up a slew of memories.

"Herschel, you drive like a grandfather!" (note: I am a grandfather). I hear that constantly from family members. But I am also a retired volunteer firefighter. Thirty-three years of responding to car crashes (I don't call them accidents: they don't happen out of the blue, there is always a cause) has convinced me that being on the roads is one of the scariest activities we routinely engage in.

I know my perspective is warped by having responded to hundreds of crashes in my career but hear me out.

First, we should all know the facts.

In 2023, approximately 44,500 individuals were killed in motor vehicle crashes. Although that number is down from 2022, according to the National Safety Council, it's up nearly 13% compared to 2019. It's also the same number of fatalities recorded in 1990. So there hasn't been that much improvement in thirty years. Fortune magazine reports that in 2022, nearly six million crashes were reported to the police. (400,000 of those were distracted drivers)

According to Mark Chung, executive vice president of roadway practice at NSC, "The most dangerous thing most people in our country do in a single day is using the U.S. roadway system. This public health crisis is an atrocity that must continue to be addressed."

I'm with Mr. Chung.

Come take a drive with me. As I leave our road in El Dorado and head towards Santa Fe (about ten miles) there is first a two-way road. Driving on that road, I remember a crash with a yellow VW bug that resulted in serious injuries. Driving a little further, I remember a scene involving multiple vehicles piled on each other. Fortunately, no one was seriously hurt. Driving by the exit of the interstate, I notice big red signs saying, "Wrong way." These are there because of the DUI head-on collisions with fatalities we've had when drivers end up going the wrong way on the freeway. Turning onto a two-lane straight-as-arrow, Old Las Vegas highway, every mile marker recalls a crash or two: Car going off the road, head-ons, car vs deer, spinouts in the snow. And then there are the Descansos ("Resting place" in Spanish), the small memorials put up by relatives to mark the place where a loved one died in a wreck. Each one of those brings back the memories of responding to the tragedies. One scene where four teenagers were killed still haunts. A year after the crash, another firefighter told me that he still didn't believe that the kids died. "They all looked so peaceful like they were asleep," he told me.

I have often wished that we could leave wrecked cars and debris from crashes on the side of the road as reminders to drivers to drive sober and safely. But then our roads would be cluttered with wrecks.

Given this, you may understand why I am a paranoid driver. I harp on my family to drive the speed limit, watch out for cars going through red lights, stay off their phones, follow the two-second rule when following someone (two seconds of distance between cars), stay in the right-hand lane on the interstate going up hills where you can't see if there is a wrong-way driver in the lefthand lane. From deep in my EMT training, I tell them to assume that every fifth car has a distracted or impaired driver.

There are all sorts of other tips for driving safely, but the most important is to be a little bit paranoid when you get behind the steering wheel—you'll figure out the rest.

I often play a game with myself: Trying for the perfect trip: Not accidentally crossing over the center line, staying exactly two seconds behind the car I'm following, not rolling through a stop sign, being at all times situationally aware, never exceeding five mph over the speed limit. That is, driving like a grandfather.

To end this, I ask that you not take driving for granted and that you be present, aware, calm, and unimpaired. Your life and all the others that you might meet on the road depend on it.

Hersch Wilson is a retired Santa Fe County volunteer firefighter and author of “Firefighter Zen: A Field Guide for thriving in Tough Times”