I think I did okay. That woman didn't look mortally wounded...And with the excellent insurance coverage in this country, fixing her face shouldn't cost her anything.
The test-giver was very serious, no conversation except for the requisite turn right, turn left. I could swear I saw him cutting me off on the 443 the other day. Naaah. I'm sure he always signals (or puts on his vinkerim as they are called in this country).
And I won't know if I passed or failed until later today. I guess my case needs to be conferenced before he tells me.
One more thing before I go: Every Thursday night or Friday we always see young chayalim (soldiers) getting out of cars and buses, with their knapsack slung over one shoulder and their gun slung over the other. I just saw a soldier bound eagerly up the steps to his apartment. I am always so happy that they are getting a well deserved "Shabbat Chofshit" (weekend off). I know they are being welcomed by their loved ones with much joy. These kids fill me with such pride and love--and I know you all join me in my prayer that they will always return home safe and sound.
See this woman's blog for a beautifully told tale of her son's army service.
Our driving instructor, Ofer (a quintisential Israeli), who is also our neighbor just knocked on our door. He greeted us with, "Mazal Tov!". So we passed our tests, both Isaac and I. And then Ofer, with the Ray-Ban shades and diamond earring in his ear wished us a Shabbat Shalom.
The Stuff That Lasts, Part Deux
4 months ago