I didn't set out to become a voice in trauma-informed traffic safety.

In fact, I was just trying to answer a question.

For more than a decade, I've had the privilege of serving as the Executive Director of Oregon Impact, a statewide nonprofit dedicated to reducing traffic deaths and serious injuries through education, partnerships, and prevention. My work has taken me alongside law enforcement officers, first responders, healthcare professionals, traffic safety advocates, educators, military organizations, and families whose lives changed in an instant because of a crash.

Again and again, I noticed something that wasn't being talked about.

People survived horrific collisions, yet months later they still couldn't explain why driving felt different. They avoided highways. Their hands tightened on the steering wheel. A routine trip to the grocery store suddenly felt overwhelming. Friends and family assumed they should simply "get back to normal."

But trauma doesn't work that way.
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​The more I listened, the more I realized that traffic safety wasn't only about engineering, enforcement, or education. It was also about understanding the human brain. It was about recognizing how traumatic experiences quietly influence our decisions, our reactions, and our confidence behind the wheel.

Then a simple request changed everything.

I was asked to create a resource for people who had experienced, witnessed, or responded to traumatic crashes. What began as "writing up something helpful" quickly became months of research, conversations with experts, and a realization that there was very little practical information available for people struggling after trauma.

That work became Healing Behind the Wheel.

Not long afterward, another question landed on my desk.

Why are military veterans so much more likely to die in motor vehicle crashes after returning home?
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The answer wasn't poor driving. It was training.

Combat teaches service members to stay alert, scan constantly, react instantly, and always prepare for danger. Those skills save lives in combat zones, but they can create unexpected challenges on civilian roads. Understanding that connection led to my second book, Civilian Roads, Military Minds, and opened the door to conversations with veterans, military families, researchers, and safety professionals across the country.

Today, I spend my time researching, writing, speaking, and asking one simple question:

What if understanding people is the missing piece of traffic safety?

I write, speak, and teach because I believe safer roads begin with understanding people—not just vehicles. Whether someone is recovering from a traumatic crash, transitioning home from military service, or working to support others through difficult experiences, knowledge can replace fear, and understanding can create lasting change.

People often assume I wrote these books because I wanted to become an author. The truth is almost the opposite. I wrote them because I couldn't stop asking questions. My goal is to start conversations that save lives.

My goal is to start conversations that save lives.

If my work helps even one person understand why they react the way they do behind the wheel—and gives them the confidence to move forward—then every page has been worth writing.

Welcome. I'm really glad you're here.