I broke the law

I drove through a red light a few weeks ago.

The cops weren’t chasing me, and it wasn’t a rebellious act to break the rules. It happened because I let my guard down.

I’ve driven on thousands of roads over the last five years. After a while, I memorized the routes I frequently take. Even with my eyes closed, I could find my way to work, the gym, or the beach.

You’ve probably experienced the same thing. The road becomes your friend. Driving is second nature. You no longer need the GPS to hold your hand as you navigate your hometown.

You reach a point where your mind turns on autopilot, and you stop at lights and make turns subconsciously.

Sometimes, your eyes will look around, and you’ll forget you’ve been behind the wheel for the last 10 minutes.

Sounds familiar?

That’s how my mind felt when I went through the red light. It kicked into autopilot.

Had I been driving to work or my house, my brain would have recognized the light and slowed down. But I was in a town I didn’t know. The roads looked unfamiliar with the twists, bends, and weaves you’d find in the mountains.

Adrenaline surged through my veins after passing the light. My heart raced, and my hands shook. I glanced around. Once. Twice. Three times. No cops. So, no tickets.

Thankfully, no cars crossed the road at the same time as me because that would be 50 times worse than any ticket.

The experience made me realize that I couldn’t allow my mind to turn on autopilot behind the wheel while driving down unfamiliar roads. I promised myself to pay more attention, even if I were on roads I knew with my eyes closed.

For the last few months, I’ve adopted a strategy to skyrocket my writing skills.

I review what I did, saw, ate, or heard every day and find the most story-worthy moment.

This means that I pick something from my day--grand or minuscule--and say to myself, this is the best story I could tell about what happened to me today.

When I went through the light, I knew it was the most story-worthy moment from that day. And as I went to bed, I knew deep down in my heart that I wouldn’t experience another adrenaline-filled moment like that for a while.

I took every precaution possible on my way to work the next day to ensure nothing happened.

I didn’t drive with one hand on the wheel and the other out the window like a movie star going down the hills. My two hands glued themselves to the wheel at ten and two as if preparing for a road test.

Like your high school driving instructor always told you to do, I checked my blind spots every few seconds and ensured I came to a gradual stop while slowing down.

And instead of blasting my music, I lowered the volume to a moderate level.

Everything went well.

Heck, everything went perfectly.

Until the last few minutes of my trip…

Despite paying attention and stopping my mind from entering autopilot, I somehow didn’t see the red light.

I drove right through it again.

I couldn’t blame it on the unfamiliar roads this time because I blew through a stoplight on one of those routes I could navigate with my eyes closed.

Luckily, no one crossed the road at the same time and kissed my car with theirs. And no cops lurked nearby to pull me over. I could have driven off as if nothing had happened.

But something did happen. And I knew it.

I kept driving, yet I didn’t ignore the fact I did the exact thing I had prepared myself not to do. Even after saying that I wouldn’t relive the adrenaline-filled story moment from the day before, my adrenaline raced ten times faster this time.

Accidentally going through a red light once will inject fear into you. Hours later, however, you may forget about it.

But you won’t ever forget the second time it happens--especially if it’s the day after the first one.

I’ve realized that your life is unpredictable. You never know what will or won’t hit you. No matter how cautious you are, there’s no guarantee you’ll be safe.

Life works in mysterious ways.

And sometimes, the tragedies that stab you in the back are the ones you work hardest to prevent.