Tragic Tribute Parents Use Dramatic Display To Steer Young Drivers Away From Fate Their Son Suffered

Travel down Highway 291 just outside of Tum Tum and you’ll see a sight you’re not likely to forget.

It’s difficult to miss the remnants of the Ford pickup. The left front of the hood is peeled off. The right corner points up like a little mountain. It’s driver’s door is bent down near the seat. You can barely identify the passenger door from the rest of the mangled metal. The passenger seat isn’t much better; it’s covered by the displaced dashboard.

The roof of the truck bends back into the bed. The tabs, good until May of 2000, will not get their full use.

And then, jutting out of the revealed engine, you will see a cross surrounded by flowers. The words “I Love You” are scrawled up and down the sides. In the center is the inscription “Damon Mattozzi, 6-5-78 to 7-19-99.”

And with this lasting tribute, there comes hope.

The truck sits in the front yard of Damon’s parents’ house. A few yards away from it they have erected a reader board that says: “Drinking 3 Miles From Home, Made it 2.”

Coming from the opposite direction you are greeted with: “Damon’s Last Drink, When’s Yours?”

“If it makes just a couple of people slow down and think, it’s worth it. Some won’t. But they never will until something happens to them,” says Damon’s father.

He’s right. As we stood in his driveway, we watched three cars go by. The first two, upon seeing the compacted vehicle, flash their brake lights. You can almost hear the thoughts going through their heads. The third car zooms by without so much a backward glance. Unfortunately, they will most likely learn the hard way.

As for the other two, they are a sign that maybe some strand of good can come out of this tragedy.

Damon was not an underage drinker. His death was one of the sad reminders of what can happen to anyone consuming alcoholic beverages regardless of age. In light of this, his parents have chosen to take it upon themselves to keep others from the same fate.

Although this means they will now live with a daily reminder of heartache, passing the truck and pointed messages every time they leave their house. They know that what they are doing will benefit people they may never meet. That those who will come to appreciate the message the most can never understand their pain. And yet they tell me that they will be changing the messages every couple weeks.

The Mattozzis don’t need to see the results - they just work with the steadfast knowledge that they will be there.