It was a dark and stormy night. Really! My friend and I had gone to a late afternoon movie, and when we emerged from the multiplex, it was unusually dark and wet. We pulled hoods over our heads and dashed for my car where we decided to go grab a bite to eat. I backed out of the parking stall, and headed toward the freeway.

Although I was in a good mood from watching a very funny movie (“Red”), I began to get a bit grumpy as I tried to navigate through the downpour. Other drivers were not letting me merge, and I was having trouble seeing the lines on the roads. For the first time, I began to doubt my nighttime driving abilities. At just 58 years old, this scared me.

After we left the restaurant, another driver flashed his brights to let me know that I didn’t have my headlights on. Instantly, the lines and reflectors on the road jumped to life, and I could see the path like a hungry crow following Hansel and Gretel. I realized that I had been driving without my lights on a dark and stormy night. That was even more frightening!

We think teens are susceptible to attention lapses, but even experienced drivers can be thrown off our game as well. While kids are probably singing or talking about friends, it’s more than likely that we oldsters are discussing issues of life, liberty, children, grandchildren, death and taxes.

It’s easy for us to become lost in the problems of our lives and the world. I was guilty of distracted driving, or more accurately, distracted parking. My car enables me to leave the headlights on all the time, but I must have turned them off when I turned off the windshield wipers. And of course, I was talking to my friend.

I love to drive, and I dread the day I have to stop. I watched as invisible prison bars came down around my dad as macular degeneration affected his eyesight. He then had a small stroke that cost the vision in his better eye. And yet he wanted to keep driving.

Dad had a good friend named George. He was walking across a street when he was hit by a car. He spent months in the hospital, and never fully recovered. When we had one of many conversations with Dad about hanging up his car keys, I reminded him about his buddy. “What if you were the person who hit George? What if you hit a child? You would never forgive yourself!”

If someone is talking to you about hanging up the car keys, please listen, and work out a plan to help you stay involved in life. It’s better than causing an accident because of stubbornness.

Patty Luzzi has lived on the Eastside for 33 years. Readers can contact her at pattyluzzi@yahoo.com.