Rules of the Road

Diese Geschichte hab ich in einem Englischbuch für israelische Bagrutschüler gefunden (Bagrut – Abitur, Matura).

Dieser Text passt wie die Faust aufs Auge.

Rules of the Road

For the past 20 years or so, I have been driving in Israel and have always considered myself a careful and considerate motorist. Nevertheless, I have occasionally heard other drivers shout or worse yet, curse at me. Unable to determine what I’ve been doing wrong, I was pleased to see an advertisement in a local newspaper stating: “Learn to drive the Israeli way. Call for an Appointment”. So I did.

My instructor arrived for the first lesson about 20 minutes late. He was a heavy man and I noticed that his left arm was deeply tanned. Without a word of apology for his lateness, he shouted, “Get into the car!”

“May I ask why you are late?” I inquired. He replied with a question of his own. “Does that upset you?”

“Well, yes. It does,” I admitted.

“Good! That’s the attitude you need to have before starting”, he beamed. “The first rule for an Israeli driver is never to drive unless you are nervous, upset or in a rush. Now get into the car!”

I obeyed and while waiting for him to enter the passenger side of the car. I fastened my seat belt. He looked at me in disbelief. “What do you think you’re doing?” he yelled at me.

“Wh-What?”

“The seat belt. You like driving in a straitjacket?”

“But the law!”

“Law-shmaw! Watch me!” He placed the strap over his chest without fastening it. “See. That’s how it’s done. You fool the cops and you’re free to move around. Now get going!”

I carefully pulled out into the traffic. No sooner had I begun to pick up some speed, than a young, pregnant woman pushing a baby carriage, stepped off the curb and onto a pedestrian crosswalk just ahead of me. I stopped the car rather abruptly. My instructor was furious.

“What was that all about?” he shouted.

“The crosswalk. Th-the mother”, I stammered.

“So? What business does she have crossing the street without looking?”

“But isn’t a car supposed to give pedestrians the right of way on a crosswalk?”

“Man, you follow those rules and you’ll never get anywhere. Next time, honk your horn and then drive around her, missing her by a few centimeters – you know, like the tank maneuvers you do in the army.”

Speaking of honking horns, my instructor and I suddenly noticed that a chorus of horns was blasting behind us.

“How fast are we going?” he demanded.

“Fifty kilometers per hour. That’s the speed limit in the city, isn’t it?”

“Are you out of your mind? It’s people like you who hold up traffic and upset everyone!”

At that moment a car passed us.

“Now look what you’ve done!” he screamed.

“Wh-what?”

“What you ask me? You let him pass you!!! That’s one point for him. Now you have to restore your lost honor! Get up right behind him, closer, closer. Honk your horn. Make him go faster. Show him what a man you are. Huh? No reaction. He’s slowing down! That’s the last straw! If it’s a fight he wants, it’s a fight he’ll get. Now pass him.”

“But….there’s a car coming the other way!” I said, trying to remember the Shma Yisrael.

“This is no time for petty worries. Your honor is at stake. Go!”

I gritted my teeth and did as I was told. The oncoming car was forced to swerve off the road to make room for me. I just got a glimpse of it falling into a ditch as I completed my pass.

“Well done,” said my instructor. “You’re a fast learner!”

My moment of glory did not last long. As I reached the next intersection, I saw that the light was green. However, the street ahead was already full of cars. If I entered the intersection now, I would block it. Naturally, I stopped.

“What are you doing now?” inquired my instructor. “The light’s green! Drive!”

“But if I do that, I’ll block the intersection.”

“Block the intersection! What planet are you from? You are completely hopeless. I wanted to teach you how to park on the sidewalk, but now, you can forget it! You ought to have your license revoked.”