Writer Bob Brody considers himself lucky to have survived a night of drunken foolishness over 50 years ago. Something to think about if you’re doing any New Year’s Eve partying.

It’s 2 in the morning, and you’re driving along in your blue 1968 Chevelle, headed back to your hometown from the campus of the university you attend.

And you’re drunk out of your skull. 

You’re all of 20 years old back then in September of 1972, a college junior. You can hardly see the highway in front of you, much less the other cars, and you’re squinting and blinking to clear up your blurred vision.   

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You’re not just driving drunk, you’re actually driving blind.

And because you’re such a smart young university student, you’re also speeding. You’re racing along at easily 65, 70 miles an hour, the speed customarily recommended for driving bombed out of your mind in the dead of night.  

You’re scared out of your freaking wits but also somehow convinced you’ve got the situation well under control. Your logic for this folly is infallible. 

Here’s the rationale: You figure that the faster you drive, the sooner you’ll get home. In short, the less time you spend driving, the lower the odds........

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