I come from a small town in Upstate New York. The kind of town that has four-way stop signs because people actually give each other the right of way. The kind of town where someone would stop traffic on Main Street to let you in. You know, civilized.
And then I moved to Israel. I moved when I was 17, with no friends or family or language and definitely without any sort of understanding of how to drive here. Traffic lights that turn yellow before they turn green? You can’t always turn right on red? Don’t even get me started on parking signs (which I always had to photograph and send to someone to translate and let me know if I was parked legally).
I had been driving and flying since I was 15. I actually had my first drive on a highway on the way home from my first solo flight. So, let’s just say I was quite comfortable operating large vehicles. This being said, I was never that into video games, especially not violent racing ones, so I was wholly unprepared for driving in Israel.
My first solo drive in Israel was also my first day of Ulpan (Hebrew classes). I was nervous but excited. Ten minutes after leaving the house, I had my first accident. Granted, this one – and only this one – was totally my fault. I made a wrong turn and looked down for a second to check Waze and the woman in front of me stopped short. Honestly, in hindsight, I only tapped her but it was my first-ever accident. I got out, shaking and crying.
I have to say she was quite lovely. So lovely, in fact, that I didn’t think to take photos of both cars and the nonexistent damage when we exchanged information.
Later she would go on to claim I did NIS 10,000 worth of damage to her car.
After the lovely Israeli woman calmed me down enough to get back in my car (not even my car but the car of the adoptive family I was staying with who were generous enough to let me borrow it, which made it so much worse), I pulled over at a gas station and called the mother of my adoptive family. I cried saying I just wanted to come home but she told me to get back on the horse and go to Ulpan, so I did.
No sooner did I park outside the Ulpan than the car that was parked in front of me went to pull out of their parking spot and backed into me full gas. I kid you not.
AT THIS point, I looked up at the big guy and said, “you’re kidding, right?” This day would end with a parking ticket.
Driving in Israel would also lead me to my very first courthouse appearance when after a four-car pile-up – which I had no responsibility for, I swear – I had to appear in front of a judge to explain what happened, as the guy behind me was trying to say it was my fault. The car in front stopped short, the car in front of me stopped, I stopped, the car behind me hit me and the domino effect began.
At this point, I was a soldier with a very thick American accent. When the accuser caught sight of me at the courthouse waiting outside for the judge to call us in – in uniform, which identified me as a commander/instructor in tanks, he had a hissy fit as he knew the case had already been lost.
“She’s a soldier?!” he yelled at his lawyer. The moment the judge saw me, heard my accent, and got that I was a lone soldier, his case was over (and rightly so).
There have been moments driving in Israel, almost daily moments, in fact, that make me feel like I am just a player in some video game and some coder up there in the sky is yelling, throw her a grandma! Now a bike coming from the alley! Add in two kids chasing a ball into the street! A truck driving at her from the wrong way! Police on a motorcycle running a stop sign! After Israel, I think driving in Rome would be calming.
If you are unfamiliar with driving in this country, allow me to give you some tips I have picked up over the years.
Don’t buy an expensive car, when it comes to parking, to squeeze into a spot, Israelis will hit and scratch your car. They call it “kissing.”
Most Israelis view one-way streets as a suggestion, so drive accordingly.
Buses drive places they shouldn’t so if you see one about to make a turn, slow down, they most likely will cross into your lane.
Israelis like to play chicken with their cars. Don’t cut them off, as they will chase you down. But also, don’t be too polite in letting people in or people behind you will chase you down. Buy insurance but also try not to use it. And whenever possible, please, just don’t drive. But most importantly, remember the words of my driver’s ed. teacher, Pastor Johnson: “Drive like everyone around you is on crack.”
The writer is the founder of Soft Landing, a company dedicated to redefining what it means to move to Israel. YourSoftLanding.com