Surrealist Evening

As I exited Hof HaCarmel train station in Haifa, it started to rain. I said a silent prayer in my head, "Please don't let it rain hard before I get home. Let it be just a little wet until I'm inside." And then I thought about my 15 minute walk and despaired that I'd make it home even slightly dry. I watched other former train passengers get into their cars as I walked across the parking lot toward the building where I live.

The rain did let up, and by the time I got five minutes away from the train station it was perfectly dry. I hardly noticed that, though, because my attention was taken up with watching the large bulldozer that was coming down the street toward me. It had bright headlights and was moving faster than bulldozers usually do when actually bulldozing things. As it got close to me, it turned toward the sidewalk where I was walking in such a way that I couldn't tell if the driver was planning to park next to the curb, but sharply, or if he was planning to come up on top of the curb.

My mind zipped through different scenarios to decide what I should do to stay safe. Maybe the driver didn't see me. Or maybe he's about to pull a "Jerusalem Construction Worker". I moved quickly as far away from the edge of the sidewalk as I could get. If he was just pulling up to park, no big deal, but he was clearly coming towards me.

The bulldozer stopped just short of the sidewalk where I was standing, and the door opened up. The driver leaned out and said something I couldn't understand over the sound of the engine from where I was at the far side of the sidewalk away from the road. I stepped closer, "What?"

"How do I get to the shopping mall?" he asked.

I stood there baffled for a moment, and then described the route to him, "You go until you get to the roundabout. Then you turn right and go up and over the bridge right there," I pointed to the bridge a few hundred meters in front of us, "After the bridge you go right, and then you won't have any choice but to go left. Then you'll see the mall up ahead."

"OK Ummm... Is there a little grocery store any closer than that in this neighborhood?"

"Not that I know of!" I responded.

"OK, thanks!" and then he closed his door and drove onward following the directions I'd just given him.

I was still laughing to myself about the man who drives his bulldozer to get some milk when a small red car passed me going the same direction as I was walking and then stopped in the middle of the road about 10 meters ahead. He waited there for me to reach him. I expected him to ask me for directions. Instead, the man leaned out his window, corn-cob pipe between his lips and asked, "Do you want a ride to the next bus stop or are you having fun walking?"

I thought about it for a split second. A moment ago I'd wished that I could get a ride, but it was raining then. Now there was no rain at all, just a strong sea breeze and the sound of the waves. I decided to keep on walking, "I'm fine walking. But thank you very much!"

I really did appreciate the offer. I felt uniquely blessed. The rain let up for me AND I was offered a ride. How lucky is that? I said thanks in my head and savored the feeling of gratefulness in my heart. It felt really good.