Linda never thought that saying yes to this one chance to share her daughter’s story would lead to decades of life-saving work.

It was November 11, 1998, and Linda had reluctantly agreed to speak that evening at the Mothers Against Drunk Driving Victim Impact Panel in downtown Bryan, Texas. In a room for of strangers, Linda nervously shared memories of her daughter before explaining how an intoxicated driver killed her as she was stranded on the side of the road with a flat tire. Her daughter was a high school junior when the tragedy occurred.

As Linda recalled the details of her loss, she also passed a picture of her daughter around for everyone in the room to see. Most of the people in this room had not elected to come to this event on their own; rather, like me, attendance was mandated by a court order as the result of an alcohol infraction. Fourteen months earlier, I had been arrested for driving while intoxicated and had pled guilty at my first court appearance for having committed this crime.

I had not been involved in an accident, so I, too, was unsure if I belonged in the room that night. When the picture of Linda’s daughter got to me, my brain went into overdrive. She looked like a friend of mine from high school, which led me to connect with the daughter in a deep, personal way. As I imagined myself losing a friend like this, a thought occurred to me. What is the difference between me and the guy who killed her?

I repeated the question in my head…

What is the difference between me and the guy who killed her?

Here I was, sitting through a mandatory part of my punishment and facing the consequences of my actions, while the guy who killed her was sitting in jail as a mandatory part of his punishment and facing the consequences of his actions. The only difference between me and that guy that I could understand was that God had a different plan for my life, should I choose to say yes and take action.

I was starting to understand the purpose of the night, and then, like getting a jolt of electricity, something else entered my thoughts. I had an instantaneous vision of a drastically different future. I could see a new path forward that would help other good kids like me stop making such a stupid mistake, and it was well-lit for the next 20 years. Yes, you read that correctly: I was given a 20-year vision of the work ahead and, more importantly, its impact.

From that moment on, every part of my being and my prayers connected around one central idea. I needed to launch a program to reduce drunk driving for the students in Bryan/ College Station that would outlast my time at Texas A&M. Less than twelve months later, my friends and I launched Caring Aggies R Protecting Over Our Lives, better known as CARPOOL.

CARPOOL was unlike any other program in the United States. It was both a student organization and a standalone 501(c)3 nonprofit corporation. Several hundred students entered the competitive interview/application process to be among the first 250 members of the organization. We secured a fleet of rental cars, 16 cell phones, a donated 2-bedroom apartment as our headquarters, food to feed 50 people every night, millions of dollars’ worth of insurance policies, community support at every level, advertising in every form, and still raised hundreds of thousands of dollars to run our weekly operations.

CAPOOL quickly became known nationwide as the largest and most effective program to reduce drunk driving in a college town. Within months, we were helping to launch sister programs at the University of Georgia, Colorado State, the University of Missouri, and many more schools. To date, the CARPOOL program at Texas A&M University has provided about 300,000 free, safe, and nonjudgmental rides home (not to other bars/parties) in its 26+ years of operations.

300,000 people made it home and woke up the next day to continue living their dreams.

300,000 people’s families continued to enjoy the love and laughter of life together, many of whom don’t even know that CARPOOL exists.

300,000 people, each with a wide network of friends and family, each touching the lives of thousands of other people…

And that is just the number of rides at the CARPOOL program… I cannot imagine the impact when you add the stats from more than a dozen full-blown sister programs based entirely on the original CARPOOL framework.

Linda’s story, told in one night through pain and tears, has impacted millions of lives (and counting).

Would I have started CARPOOL if I had not heard Linda’s story that night? Starting CARPOOL is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but it can never be compared to the difficulty that Linda faces daily after having lost her daughter.

On September 16, 1999, we turned on the CARPOOL hotline and began offering our life-saving service to those in need. The night before our operations began, I invited Linda to join me and 100 of our team members in the press box at Kyle Field, overlooking the town. As we gathered to mark the start of something that would truly impact the world, Linda shared a short reflection, thanking God her daughter’s death was not the end of the story and that the courage she mustered to present at the MADD Victim Impact Panel led to all of this.

Sharing often takes courage and a belief in something greater than what we can see right now. Find time to share your stories and make it a point to truly listen to the stories of those around you.