
COMMUTER
I'm a commuter. Every day
I travel from my hometown to Jerusalem. Usually I take a bus,
but sometimes I get lucky and catch a hitch. This is very advantageous,
saving quite a lot of time and hassle, not to mention money.
I have many friends and acquaintances
who are fellow commuters. So, when one morning my friends saw
me approaching the bus stop with an empty car, they probably became
quite enthusiastic about a good hitch. However, I passed them
by, with an apologetic expression on my face.
Now if this had happened
only once, it wouldn't have been so bad. But every few weeks
I pass by in that same car with that same apologetic expression.
Now it doesn't stop there:
Imagine you're walking on a hot summer day up a steep hill and
you hear a car approaching. You turn around to perhaps catch
the compassion of the driver, and it's me! You smile, relieved,
until you make out through the windshield that same apologetic
expression as I pass you by.
Or maybe it was just after
a hard day in Jerusalem when I passed you on the way home. To
say the least, I'm farthest from your favorite friend any more.
"Some friend," you may think, "always has a 'good
excuse' not to help me out."
Let me explain. My parents
visit Israel for a few months every year. They finally decided
it would be economically sound to buy a car instead of renting
each time. This would only be beneficial if the car was looked
after between visits to avoid additional maintenance costs.
So they left the car in my
care. At first, whenever I needed to go anywhere I told my friends,
and always stopped to pick up people even if just on the way to
the store or back. The next time my parents came, they were a
bit surprised to find a few friends (whom I called in advance)
waiting by the car whenever we decided to go to Jerusalem, and
surprised by all the errands I ran for good friends.
On the day he left, my father
told me that I could no longer under any condition take anyone
in the car. He never told me his reasoning, but it's safe to
assume his concern was for the longevity of his car.
PS: I've explained this
to many of my friends, but it's impossible to tell everybody.
And it's out of the question to stop for someone in order to
explain why it is that you can't give him a ride. Unfortunately
I may have already strained some relationships due to the misunderstanding.
That may explain the tinge of pain hidden under my apologetic
expression.
This may sound odd, but I'd
prefer, if you do decide to print this, that you leave out my
name. I don't want to make it sound like I am just writing this
up as an excuse. It should be enough that people strengthen their
sense of judgment through the good work this column does.
(Submitted by an Ohrnet Reader)
Based on "The Other Side of the
Story"
by Mrs. Yehudis Samet, ArtScroll Series
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