When my father was in his late 70s, I started to realize that his driving abilities were going downhill.

Until then, he was still driving to restaurants to get meals for himself and my mother who was largely bedridden, and it seemed as if he was still able to do so.

Then, one morning he came home wet from the heavy rain outside and said he’d wrecked his car about 150 yards from the house. He had gone out to get breakfast and had run out in front of a young girl, causing her to run in to him.

We later learned that his car was totaled, but, fortunately, his insurance paid for the damages and he still had an older car that he used sometimes.

I was a little concerned, but since the accident seemed like one anyone could have in such heavy rain, I continued to believe it was OK for him to continue driving.

Then, one day, when he didn’t come home, I found out that he was in the hospital because he had driven to a nearby store and had fallen on their floor. He wasn’t able to clearly explain his situation to the store employees, so they called an ambulance.

My son and I later took him to pick up his car at the nearby store, and he drove it home. My son who followed him home said his driving wasn’t that great but that he was able to drive.

A while later, I received a call from a man whose office was about 45 minutes or so from my dad’s house.

The man said he’d come out to the parking area where he worked and found my dad lying on the sidewalk. When he checked with him, my dad said he was just resting in the shade.

Since my dad wasn’t making much sense, the man brought him home. He drove my dad’s car and had a co-worker follow them.

When I saw him, my dad couldn’t tell me why he was so far from home. He insisted that he was OK and had just wanted to lie down in the shade.

But who pulls into a business parking lot 45 minutes from home, gets out, lies down on the sidewalk, and then can’t explain why he’s even in the area?

My guess is that he was going toward the area where he was born.

Maybe some memories were triggered, and he just headed that way. Or maybe he thought about some family members who still live in that area, decided to visit them, and then forgot.

Anyway, my sister and I started telling him that he shouldn’t drive anymore. He fought it for a while, but we finally hid the car keys and told him we couldn’t find them. He was a little upset at first, but shortly afterwood, he forgot about driving and didn’t ask about the keys anymore.

We would later learn that he had dementia. After that, his physical and mental health began to worsen dramatically.

I’m glad we stopped him from driving when we did before he harmed himself or anyone else. It’s not easy to take away an adult’s driving privilege, but it becomes necessary when they become a danger to themselves or others.

What if he had gone on driving and killed or injured someone?

Fortunately, we never had to deal with that guilt.

When to Stop Driving — Safety Tips