The Car-Test Test

My husband and I are very competitive. We’re always trying to outdo each other in various ways, like seeing who can take on more work than is humanly possible, or who can go without sleep for a longer number of consecutive nights, or who can go without showering for a longer number of consecutive days. JUST KIDDING.

Our favorite and most aggressive competition is to see who can bang up the car more. To make things more interesting, we then try to blame the other one for doing it. It’s like a type of passive-aggressive mind game, if you will. For example: I have no idea how the blue paint got scraped onto the back of my car. In other words, I didn’t do it. However, Mr. Racheli thinks I did, and he keeps insisting so. Here’s another example: I have ZERO, I mean ZERO recollection of how the back tail light got cracked and half of it already fell off. Yet again, that husband of mine keeps insisting that I did it!

The mysterious dent at the front of the car looks like he drove it into a horizontal pole, or more likely the pulley thing at the back of someone’s truck.  The right screw on the front license plate suddenly decided to miraculously unscrew itself and leave the plate hanging on, well, by a screw. A left screw.

Then, I pull out the “who’s the worse driver” card. I remind him that he’s worse by far, and he responds by reminding me that I once got my license taken away from me and had to call him to pick me up at the gas station. I respond by reminding him that he didn’t pay the registration on time, and he just reminds me that I have a terrible memory.

So let’s talk about that back cracked tail light. It was a big issue for me pretty recently. You see, in Israel they charge you through the nose for some yearly sticker that says you passed “The Test.” If your car doesn’t pass “The Test,” you can’t drive it, even if you have an updated registration and insurance. I don’t know what goes on during “The Test,” since my mechanic has always taken “The Car” in for “The Test.” Sorry, I’ll stop that now.

When the car passes its yearly physical, it’s awarded with a new sticker on the windshield. Well, this year, the know-it-all secretary at my mechanic decided that the car wouldn’t pass the test because of the cracked light shield whatever it’s called. He said I couldn’t buy just a replacement shield, as the light comes in one piece with the shield. Bunch of crooks!

I was totally bummed, especially after hearing how much a replacement light costs- 2,500 shekel! Double bunch of crooks! No way was I payin’ fo’ dat! I decided to take my chances and drive the car without doing the test, at the risk of getting pulled over and getting a big fine or my license taken away.

Predictably, each time I passed a police car, my stomach dropped and I felt as nervous as a drug smuggler trying to run his latest shipment from Mexico into Texas. After about three months, my stomach couldn’t handle any more dropping, and I gave in. I took the car back to the mechanic and came up with a brilliant solution, if I do say so myself.

“Why don’t you take the car in for the test, and if it fails, I’ll buy a new light. If not, then you’ve just caused me three months of intense, needless aggravation, thank you very much,” I said to Secretary Know-it-all. Okay, I didn’t really say that last part.

He reluctantly agreed, and eventually, the car was taken in. What was the verdict? We’ll get to that in a moment. Let me first share the lesson that I discovered during those two days (!) of waiting for the silly test to be like, sooo, over.

Obviously I prayed to Hashem about it. “Hashem, please don’t make my car fail the test. I really don’t want to have to spend that much money to get a new light. What a waste of money that would be!” And on and on…

I did this for about a day and a half, when Hashem decided to step in and correct me. “Listen, cheap lady, I don’t mind helping you out, but you’ve got it all wrong! That’s not the way to do personal prayer! You’re not supposed to ask Me to bend My will to yours! It’s vice-a-versa, get it??”

“Aaahh, You’re right, Hashem! How silly of me!” I responded, as I smacked my forehead Homer Simpson-style.

Here’s what I should have been saying all along: “Hashem, please help me to have emuna that whatever the outcome of the test is, that it’s for my best. Help me to understand that You know what You’re doing, and if You decide that I need to pay 2,500 shekel (GULP) for a new tail light, then I should be okay with that. Please, Hashem, help me to stop thinking only about what I want and start trusting that You also want what’s best for me!”

“Well done, Racheli!” Hashem cheered proudly. And, just for that action of letting go, He treated me with a very pleasant surprise- the car passed The Test, even with The Cracked Taillight! Booyah!

Not sure how to successfully pass the tests in your life? Read The Garden of Gratitude, pronto!