Foot on the Brake

I was sitting in my car at a red light in suburbia, waiting as patiently as I could to exit the shopping mall parking lot. I had just taken my daughter to buy a few last minute travel items for our upcoming trip to Israel. Sandwiched between all sorts of fancy cars in the long, slow moving exit line, I was bored. I was tired. I wanted to get home. To pass the time, I figured I would review our purchases.  So I began looking through the shopping bags and admiring the few items that we had bought. I guess I was really focusing on the goods because before I knew it, I was no longer focusing on my foot being on the brake. Then all of a sudden – BOOM-my car bumped into the car in front of me! Right there-in this wealthy suburban mall, directly into the back of a perfectly black, exquisite, brand new, BMW.

“Oh no!” I gasped. “I CANNOT believe I just did this. OMIGOSH.”

I was confused as to how it even happened. I am usually so aware and so focused. I wondered if perhaps I had suddenly come down with some type of disease that would explain my abrupt loss of control over my foot.  I had about a moment to worry about that before the light turned green and then I followed the car in front of me to the side of the road to deal with what had just happened. I was a little apprehensive at first, especially when out marched a very fancy, very scary, very serious looking soccer mom. She did not look like the kind of mom I was friends with. No, this one had a cold scowl, pointy side lips, and a stiff hair dew. I took a deep breath as she strode toward my car.

“This car is only 2 weeks old,” she began in a huff. “If there is ANY damage to it, my husband is going to KILL me.”

Oh great, I thought. Of all the people to bump into look who I got….

I came out of my car with fists clenched, prepared to defend myself in case she was as hostile as she looked. She seemed like the type to throw a frying pan or glass vase at my head.

“I’m sooo sorry,” I began sincerely, “this was a total accident.”

“Sorry, shmorry,” she growled, “this car is brand new.”

We headed directly to her back bumper. I was nervous to even look at it. I drive a big, strong SUV with lots of horse power and a menagerie of dents and scratches that lend it its special character and charm. Her sparkling little teacup car made me feel like a bull in a China shop. Thankfully, however, that nice new bumper of hers did its job and held up well. When I saw that it took the hit without showing a mark I breathed a major sigh of relief. I thought wistfully that perhaps we were done, but she continued to inspect all around the bumper. She looked everywhere, even in places that my car didn’t touch at all “just in case the impact of the bump caused the damage to jump around.” Still, however, we couldn’t find any damage, not even the slightest nick, dent or scratch. Everything about her bumper and her entire car for that matter appeared to be perfect. But despite that, she kept on examining it with a fine tooth comb and magnifying glass just to be sure. She even licked her fingers and rubbed them all around the edges of the bumpers just to be certain that there wasn’t one small dent that she missed.

After dousing the car’s entire outer rim in saliva, she agreed that there was no visible damage. I thought I was off the hook and then she let out one last, “but still, I have to take down your insurance information, license plates, and phone number just in case my husband notices some damage when I get home.”

“But there is absolutely nothing wrong with your car,” came my last attempt, “it’s got no marks on it at all.”

“Still,” she persisted, “last time I got into a fender bender like this I didn’t see any damage, but when I got home, but my husband did.“

So she took down all my information and I apologized again for my careless mistake. With half a heart she said, “These things happen,” and did an about face toward her car.

Back in my car, my daughter hit me up with a barrage of questions. She wanted to talk about this lady, her scary husband, and what if he somehow did find damage on the car when she got home. But before answering her, I took a moment to thank Hashem for what had just happened. I quickly replayed the entire scene and watched it from the point of view of a student looking to uncover some meaning. After a few moments I felt as if Hashem opened my mind to something so simple yet profound. Are you ready?

There are many times in life where we have to keep our foot on the brake.

That’s right. Because by keeping a foot on the brake we can prevent ourselves from doing, saying, or even thinking things we might regret, thereby sparing damage to ourselves and to others. Keeping a foot on the brake can mean exercising the self-control to keep our mouths closed when we are tempted to say something rude. It can mean holding back from making a nasty face to someone we love just because we happen to find them annoying at the moment. It can even mean not allowing space in our head for worry, anger, jealousy or self-deprecation.

So I took this lesson and applied it right then and there. Instead of answering my daughter with a negative rant about this lady’s attitude, or about how upset I was at myself for my careless mistake, I closed my mind and mouth to any negativity and decided to respond with positivity instead. “Nothing happens without Hashem’s stamp of approval,” I began, “and even though it seems like nothing more than a careless mistake on my part, with a lady who might cause trouble for me down the road, this incident was decreed from Hashem for some reason and that means it’s a good thing. Let’s just be so grateful that there was no damage to anyone’s bodies! Thank G-d both of our cars are fine! Thank G-d she didn’t call the police. Thank G-d we bumped into her and not her husband! Thank G-d this whole thing happened in the first place because it’s for the best and I needed it.”

Staying spiritually safe, maintaining healthy relationships and not harming those around us can take real effort at times. But sometimes, the actual amount effort required isn’t so great; it can be as simple as remembering to keep our foot on the brake.