Crash course

The scene of yesterday's bus crash
Watching the scenes from the crash on the afternoon TV bulletins, one thought kept recurring – why doesn’t this happen more often here? Because despite some claims that the poor roads are the main cause of our prolific traffic fatality toll, it’s clear the real reason is because of the drivers.
The 39-year-old bus driver of the private tour bus, who sustained serious injuries, had 22 prior traffic convictions, a toll police admitted wasn’t unusual for a driver with 20 years on the road. Seems like alot to me.
I take an Egged bus from Jerusalem to Ma’aleh Adumim – a 20 minute drive – on the average of three times a week. There’s nary one journey in which the driver, a trained professional, doesn’t exceed the speed limit, careening down the steep incline heading out of Jerusalem toward the Dead Sea. I’ve learned to close my eyes and turn up the MP3 volume, because every time I’ve ever cautioned the driver, I’ve always received the same answer – ‘Al tidag, yihye b’seder’ don’t worry, it’ll be fine.
Likewise, when I’m waiting for the bus at the bus stop close to my home, it’s right next to a stop sign in which the driver is required to turn left, or head straight into a one-way street the wrong way. An informal study I’ve conducted over the last year indicates that only 40% of the drivers come to a complete stop, with 20% easing through, and a whopping 40% driving through the stop sign as if it didn’t exist.
When I’m driving from Jerusalem to Tiberias on the Jordan Valley road, through narrow, windy, roads, I stick to the speed limit because I honestly don’t think I would have full control of the car if I exceeded that speed of 90 kilometers an hour. Well, I’m flashed with the brights and passed by virtually every other car on the 30 or 40 kilometer journey. Simply put, Israelis think they’re invincible on the road.
These are the norms of driving that we live with – and die with – here. And until every driver internalizes the fact that the rules of the road exist to protect them, then accidents like yesterday’s will continue at an unabated pace.
Amira gets her license
My older stepdaughter, Amira, 17, passed her driving test on the first round. That’s big news in these parts, not just because she can now drive — accompanied by another driver older than 25 for the first three months — but due to the fact that the system here often has teenage drivers failing one, two, three, even four times, after taking dozens of lessons. Amira, for example, took nearly 50 lessons, at NIS 100 a pop. Supposedly, that’s fairly average. And that’s not even counting the cost of the test.
Her cousins, and other nieces and nephews of mine, have failed several times in a row, after racking up lessons with each additional driving test. Everyone complains about the system, which does not allow students to practice driving with other drivers; they can only drive with their driving teacher until passing the test.
So now that Amira has passed her driving test, she can drive with us, in our car, something that she wants to do ALL THE TIME. The minute she’s home from school, our nahag hadash — new driver — wants to know where we’re going in the car, and if she can drive. This is all good; after all, we want her to have her independence, to grow and mature, to get herself where she needs to go.
But it’s nervewracking. For starters, the insurance for a 17-year-old driver is astronomical. We found a company that allows you to add a driver for four days a week at a discounted price, but you have to remember to call them each time you want to activate the insurance. Fine. Then you have to breathe deeply at the thought of your 17-year-old driving the new car that you’ve finally purchased after months, years, of deliberation.
The thing is, Amira’s a good driver. Or so I hear; I haven’t actually driven with her yet. But I can believe the rumors. And, after all, she did pass her test. Now, the question is, will we survive?











