This past Saturday night I headed out to visit my son who studies at a yeshiva in Pomona. I figured there wouldn’t be many cars out on New Year’s Eve, and with Shabbat ending so early it seemed like a good opportunity to make the trip.
Waze confirmed that there was no traffic and told me I should be there in 40 minutes. Great! Three of my kids decided to come along, and we hopped into the car.
But as soon as we crossed the George Washington Bridge, we found ourselves surrounded by fog. This was no ordinary fog. It was heavy and dense, with extremely low visibility.
Cars were driving so slowly; it was impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.
I continued down the Palisades, thinking to myself that I would have never ventured out on a night like this if I’d known, when—boom!—we felt a big jolt as a car hit us from behind. My kids jumped up, frightened and shaking, and I pulled over to the side of the road to see the extent of the damage. It was significant.
The driver of the other car, who I could hardly see, pulled over on the other side of the highway, so I couldn’t even approach him.
In the meantime, cars were whizzing by. Some slowly and safely, but others seemed to pay the fog no attention and were driving at dangerous speeds.
I realized we were in serious danger. Hardly visible, stopped on the side of a busy highway. Some of my kids had gotten out of the car to see what was going on (I sent them right back immediately), and I, too, was outside and barely visible. Any second a car could come crashing into me.
I knew I needed to call the police, get a report and the other driver’s insurance, but I also recognized we were in a life-threatening situation. Every minute we spent waiting for the police in this weather was literally putting our lives in danger.
As the Torah tells us, life always takes precedence, so I jumped back into the minivan and proceeded with a broken car, but grateful to be alive.
When something like this happens to us, we know that Hashem is trying to convey a message—a wake up call of sorts. Perhaps he’s trying to tell me to get my priorities straight. Or maybe it’s a simple “zol zein a kapparah” — an atonement for my sins — in which case I am even more grateful that nothing worse happened!
In the meantime, if you see my beat up, broken down car on the streets, yes, it’s me, happy to be alive and well.