Highway carnage so pointless

The Boston Herald

Beverly Beckham

I buckle her in her car seat and tighten the straps, leaving her just enough room to breathe and I head out into the world with this baby who is my daughter's and son-in-law's life, who had to fight so hard for life, who is our gift and our joy.

She babbles as I drive, unaware of how vulnerable she is despite straps and padding. But I'm aware. I've been aware since her mother was pregnant with her and we were in a cab and the driver was speeding and I said, slow down, she's having a baby.

This baby has survived heart surgery. And then more heart surgery. Doctors shaking their heads. Nurses squeezing our hands.

And every time I put her in the car and take her somewhere I think about this, about the people who worked so hard to save her, about the people who prayed for her, about the tubes and the tests and the days and nights we all spent sitting by her side.

It takes nine months to grow a child. And then it takes more: holding, feeding, burping, changing, bathing, teaching, loving, rocking, comforting, protecting, all day, every day.

Except that you can't protect people.

Last Saturday I drove with my granddaughter to Somerville down Route 128 onto the Southeast Expressway and it was like every other day - drivers cutting in and out, passing in the breakdown lane, speeding in the breakdown lane, the highway a raceway not just with kids in fast cars driving 85 and 90 mph, but vans speeding and SUVs careening and a big white American-made car decorated with flags, the driver well into his 70s, weaving in and out of lanes.

And there were no police cruisers anywhere.

It was just like every other day. Except that Lucy was in the car. And Lucy makes me aware of how close cars come to each other and how sometimes it's just an inch that separates them, a breath. And how you can childproof your house and fence in your yard and install smoke detectors and be scrupulous about safety locks and schools and babysitters and car seats, make the straps fit, make the straps tight.

But you can't protect your children from their No. 1 killer - drivers who aren't thinking of anyone but themselves.

Elizabeth Marie Tracy was 22 months when she was killed while strapped in a car seat in the back of her aunt's and uncle's car. She had big eyes and a bright smile and was returning home after a day at the zoo when a tractor-trailer truck, driving too close, crushed and killed all three of them four summers ago.

Her birthday would be in two weeks. She should be turning 6. She should be in first grade. She and her aunt and uncle should be alive.

Every 12 minutes someone is killed in a car crash in this country. Every 14 seconds someone else is disabled. These statistics are stunning. Car crashes are the leading cause of death for everyone between the ages of 1 and 33, killing more young people than cancer, falls, fires, even far more than this war in Iraq.

And all these injuries and deaths are unnecessary.

We've got meter maids ticketing parked cars that aren't a danger to anyone. We've got homeland security searching through old ladies' bags. We have people demanding safety warnings on just about everything - except the auto.

The guy in the big white car? I bet he was a grandfather. What was he thinking as he cut across three lanes of traffic?

It's a video game out on the roads, people dodging and weaving because they can. No one is stopping them. Sp every 12 minutes someone dies.