Stoping for Red Lights Essay

594 Words 3 Pages
I gripped the steering wheel of my aging Jeep Wrangler tighter, my knuckles turned a ghostly white. Another car pulled up behind me and the driver mercilessly slammed on the horn attempting to coerce me to move forward. He then rolled down his window and stuck his head out of his window and brutally screamed, "Are you blind? The light is green for Christ's sake!"
I hesitated, but then the taunting red light flashed into my eyes and I felt my foot hit the floor of the car. As I sped away through the red light I glanced in the rearview mirror to see the driver’s face in the car behind me twist into utter disbelief as he and his car remained stationary.
Once again, nothing happened. I didn’t get hit. I run red lights all the time and
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I gripped the steering wheel of my aging Jeep Wrangler tighter, my knuckles turned a ghostly white. Another car pulled up behind me and the driver mercilessly slammed on the horn attempting to coerce me to move forward. He then rolled down his window and stuck his head out of his window and brutally screamed, "Are you blind? The light is green for Christ's sake!"
I hesitated, but then the taunting red light flashed into my eyes and I felt my foot hit the floor of the car. As I sped away through the red light I glanced in the rearview mirror to see the driver’s face in the car behind me twist into utter disbelief as he and his car remained stationary.
Once again, nothing happened. I didn’t get hit. I run red lights all the time and nothing ever happens, but the one time she runs a red light she dies. One careless mistake and her entire life is taken from her, and with that mine is completely altered. How is that fair?
Today is the anniversary of her death. It’s been five years since October 12, 2005, and in those five years I’ve been without a mother, and practically without any caretaker at all considering the fact that my father spends most of the year traveling for business. On every October 12th since her death I’ve ran one more red light than I did the year before. This year it’s fifteen.
The authorities tell me that from looking at the footage of the moments before my mother’s death she stopped at the red light, looked both ways as if it was a stop sign and the