Early in the morning, still groggy from sleep with my hair mussed and jaw sore from yawning, I, like many Westview students, have to take on the most dangerous, anxiety-inducing part of my day: the treacherous road to school. 

Navigating amongst these congested streets and capricious drivers, my 2012 Honda Odyssey Minivan rattles; a gargantuan brute comparable with that of a large gray hippo. 

Aside from the unwieldiness of my vehicle, the route itself is dangerous, complicated by the large number of students and their parents who all have the same singular goal: get to school before that bell rings. 

There is no time for diplomacy, respectfulness, or kindness on the road, nor blinkers. You just turn and hope. It’s just a simple fact of life: right of way to those who take it, survival of the fittest. 

On the drive, I clench the wheel with white-knuckles, constantly paranoid.  

I often see Ebikers packed six to a bike, defying all known laws of physics and common sense. They play their own version of high-stakes Crossy Road while surrounding cars try their best to avoid the helmetless teens. 

There is another dangerous stretch of the journey: intersections. Many of these are smooth, orderly affairs. But some, like the one south of the 56 on Camino Del Sur, become battlegrounds for impatient drivers.

Full of cars jostling to get onto the next segment of road, many often get stuck in the middle of the intersection: whether through lack of foresight or not being able to see around my minivan at the road ahead, I don’t know. 

After that intersection is cleared, the danger doesn’t stop. The closer I get to school, the more unpredictable cars become. 

One day, I was just putting along, going about 40 miles an hour — a respectable digit, given that it takes me about two minutes of acceleration to get there — when all of a sudden, the car in front of me slammed on its brakes. One would think an Ebiker was about to be turned into a pancake, but no: out pops a student who walks to the sidewalk saying “love ya mom!” 

After responding in kind, the parent pulled off a similar move to get out of the dead stop. Remember earlier? No blinkers and all that? Yeah. It’s rough out there.

If I’m lucky — and I avoided all the defenseless Ebikers and erratic drivers — I’ll make it to the parking lot without any new dents or scratches. However, that territory, and parking, is a whole different story that can be explained in only four words: “not-so-mini van.”