Both were my fault.
In one, at night, I didn’t see a driver in a parking lot, and as he passed I drove into him. (I’m not one-hundred percent that his lights were on, but it’s not as if I had to grope my way to my car in pitch blackness.) In the other, I was distracted on the freeway, didn’t see traffic stop in front of me, braked and switched lanes to avoid a collision, and lost control of my Jeep. I ended up having a collision anyway. The Jeep was totalled.
It’s true: I’m a bad driver.
This is no time for making excuses. The first step to solve a problem is to acknowledge it.
1. Degraded driving habits.
When I wonder how I became a bad driver, I think of the gradual degrading of my driving habits. Like, when I’m on my motorcycle, I don’t like to come to a complete stop at a stop sign. It’s a bother to stop, put my feet down, and then proceed. I’ve learned the habit of doing slow rolls through stop signs.
That might not be unsafe per se, but it’s less safe. And it gets the mind in the habit of approving lax driving habits.
Another bad habit: over the years, my freeway speed has crept up. I’ve often done 80 mph or faster.
This speed exalts my desire to shorten my drive time over safety. There’s nothing good about this habit. Not only is it less safe to drive faster rather than slower; it also creates a habit of mind to think of safety as less important than it is.
So the first step to recover my driving zen is to be scrupulous about traffic laws. Now, that doesn’t mean necessarily driving 65 on the freeway; but I’ve re-acquired the habit of keeping my speed down to 70. And I don’t roll through stop signs, even if there’s no other vehicle around.
But if I can’t banish all non-driving thoughts, I can encourage thinking about driving. It’s not not-thinking about the elephant (impossible); it’s thinking about the antelope (possible).
In other words, instead of trying to not think of anything but driving, I should occupy my mind with driving-related ideas.
During my motorcycle training, I was taught to look a half-a-mile down the road, to anticipate problems far ahead so that I can deal with them on a non-emergency basis. And I was taught constantly to be aware of my traffic surroundings. These habits are especially important on a motorcycle. If you have a collision and you’re in your car, you’re likely to talk to a police officer. If you have a collision and you’re on your motorcycle, you might talk to an angel.
So all of my motorcycle riding (which I'll do a lot of until I replace my car) has a positive effect. It stirs in my mind a sense of danger and high stakes on the road. I expect that alertness to the road to continue when I’m back in a car. If it doesn’t happen automatically, I’ll be conscious about replicating my motorcycle habits-of-the-mind when I drive my car. I can mimic in my car the same thoughts that keep me safe on my motorcylce.
The other habit that I can instill into my driving mind is constantly to critique my driving. (So: "When that lady waved me to do my left turn in front of her, I didn’t look to the right before starting! Ugh!") This alerts me to my driving deficits. This makes it possible to change bad habits. This, again, occupies the mind with driving, making me a safer driver.
Finally, I have gone back to motorcylce-safety school to remember ideas to be safe. But I can go back further than that -- to the first grade. When I was little, we walked to school. Our parents and teachers drilled into our little mind a simple safety instruction: when you cross a street, "Stop, look, and listen".
What I learned in the first grade for crossing streets is a good lesson when I'm fifty-five and going through stop signs.
While I drive, I can’t keep from thinking about my cases, or about my friends and family, or about my business, or about literature and writing. But I can dictate to my mind to often and routinely reach out to the road.
It’s possible to alert your mind to the importance of certain things. If you practice remembering names of people you meet, eventually it becomes easier to remember names. If you write down your dreams immediately when you wake, it becomes easier to remember your dreams. By doing these things, you tell the mind that remembering names or remembering dreams are important, and the mind improves at those skills.
So the plan is to undertake activities that alert my mind that safe driving is important, so that when I’m on the road, my mind focuses on safety.
One idea is to get the habit of reading about safe driving. This habit is more often undertaken by motorcycle riders than car drivers. That’s probably because the stakes are higher on the road for a motorcycle rider.
There are books about motorcycle safety, and motorcycle magazines often have columns that discuss safe riding. I have books; I should re-read them. And I should join, say, the Honda Riding Club for the sake of its magazine. I don’t now know of similar resources for car drivers.
Another idea is to solicit ideas about safety from friends. Some of my friends drive long distances and have good driving records. They could be resources.
These practices would instill in the mind the importance of safety. Of course, these practices have another positive purpose: I might actually learn something that improves my driving.
4. Focusing the mind: future study.
Finally, this essay is only a start. As time goes by, I’ll revisit it. I’ll likely revise it as new strategies for assuring safe driving present themselves.
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