It was a day like any other. I was driving north on Highway 75, enjoying the hum of the engine and the flow of traffic, when something instantly tightened in my chest. There, tucked neatly in the turnout just beyond a curve, was a state trooper’s cruiser.
My first instinct was the same one most drivers feel in that exact moment—a quick glance at the speedometer, a surge of adrenaline, and the thought: “Was I going too fast?”
The patrol car sat motionless, but I could almost feel the officer’s presence. My mind began racing faster than my wheels. Had I slipped a little above the limit without noticing? Would the flashing lights suddenly appear in my rearview mirror?
As I drove past, seconds stretched into what felt like minutes. Every reflection on my side mirror became suspicious. Every car pulling in behind me made me wonder if the trooper had decided to move.
But nothing happened.
And that’s when I realized something important: the trooper didn’t even move. He stayed right where he was, parked in that turnout, watching traffic flow by. My pulse began to slow, but my thoughts didn’t.
That brief encounter became a reminder of how quickly our sense of control can vanish behind the wheel. We live in a world where a simple drive can shift from ordinary to tense in the blink of an eye. Seeing that patrol car reminded me that driving isn’t just about reaching a destination—it’s about staying alert, aware, and cautious every moment we’re on the road.
Maybe that trooper wasn’t there for me. Maybe he was monitoring something else entirely. But in that fleeting moment, he made me confront not just my speed, but the responsibility that comes with driving.
It’s funny how something so small—a car in a turnout, a uniform you never even see—can change the way you think for the rest of your trip. By the time I reached my exit, I wasn’t just relieved. I was thankful.
Thankful for the reminder that sometimes, the things that scare us on the road are the very things that keep us safe.