No second chance for driving safely

Sat., May 7, 2011

Kathy Mitchell/Marcy Sugar

Dear Annie: The essay “Dead at 17” relates what happens when kids don’t follow driving safety rules. Every year there are new teenage drivers who haven’t seen it. Please print it again. – Chicago Mom

Dear Mom: Here’s an excerpt of the classic essay “Dead at 17,” by John Berrio:

Agony claws my mind. I am a statistic. When I got here I found no sympathy. I saw only thousands of others whose bodies were as badly mangled as mine. I was given a number and placed in the category called “Traffic Fatalities.”

The day I died was an ordinary school day. How I wish I had taken the bus! But I was too cool for the bus. I remember how I wheedled the car out of Mom. “Special favor,” I pleaded. “All the kids drive.” When the 2:50 p.m. bell rang, I threw my books in the locker … free until tomorrow morning! I ran to the parking lot, excited at the thought of driving a car and being my own boss.

It doesn’t matter how the accident happened. I was goofing off – going too fast, taking crazy chances. But I was enjoying my freedom and having fun. The last thing I remember was passing an old lady who seemed to be going awfully slow. I heard a crash and felt a terrific jolt. Glass and steel flew everywhere. My whole body seemed to be turning inside out. I heard myself scream.

Suddenly, I awakened. It was very quiet. A police officer was standing over me. I saw a doctor. Hey, don’t pull that sheet over my head. I can’t be dead. I’m only 17. I’ve got a date tonight. I’m supposed to have a wonderful life ahead of me. I haven’t lived yet. I can’t be dead.

Later I was placed in a drawer. My folks came to identify me. Why did they have to see me like this? Why did I have to look at Mom’s eyes when she faced the most terrible ordeal of her life? Dad suddenly looked very old.

The funeral was weird. I saw all my relatives and friends walk toward the casket. Some of my buddies were crying. A few of the girls touched my hand and sobbed as they walked by. Please, somebody – wake me up! Get me out of here. I can’t bear to see Mom and Dad in such pain. My grandparents are so weak from grief they can barely walk.

Please, don’t bury me! I’m not dead! I have a lot of living to do! I want to laugh and run again. Please don’t put me in the ground! I promise if you give me just one more chance, God, I’ll be the most careful driver in the whole world. All I want is one more chance. Please, God, I’m only 17.

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