The day I started working as a driver, I made two commitments to myself: 1) to learn the set shiurim in mishnayos, Gemara and Shulchan Aruch, come what may, and 2) not to accept driving jobs on Friday afternoons. The first kabbalah was between me and myself. It was not easy, when it seemed that someone wanted to ask me to drive him somewhere, and I would not pick up the phone, but it was clear to me that if this would come at the expense of the shiur, then the job simply did not belong to me. Regarding Friday afternoons, that is a bit more difficult, because there are people who need to travel specifically then, and if not for these jobs, why am I a driver? But I’ve learned to tell clients about the hours that I work, and especially about the hours when I do not work.
On Friday, Erev Shabbos parshas Vayigash, someone ordered a ride from the airport to Yerushalayim at 10:30 a.m. The hour was okay according to the aforementioned kabbalos, and I set out on my way. I arrived at the airport and waited for the travelers. I waited and waited and waited, and they waited too; they got stuck in the terminal for a long time until they found their suitcase, and then it had to be checked, and by the time they were released and sent out, two hours had passed.
“The price for this trip is 600 shekels,” I informed them. “I waited two hours for you, and it’s already very late, and this is a short Friday.” They understood, and they paid the full sum.
Later, when I was about to leave Yerushalayim, one family asked me to take them to Modiin Illit. I was happy to take them, since I was going in that same direction anyway, and I told them it would cost 175 shekels.
When we arrived, the family settled into the home of their hosts, and I rushed to prepare myself for Shabbos kodesh. I was driving in the direction of the mikveh, and in my haste I hit another car that was driving on the road. “Don’t you see how you’re driving?!” he shouted at me. “What’s wrong with you? Look what you did to my car! You’ll have to pay for this!”
Neither of us had time to make an accounting. I gave him my phone number, and it was clear to both of us that we would speak again.
He called me right after Shabbos. I proposed that we go to an Arab village to have them repair the car, but he was afraid to do that. “How could you even suggest such a thing? We’ll go only to a Jewish mechanic.”
And so it was. On Sunday we went together to the mechanic, and we were told that the repair would cost 800 shekels. I asked the owner how it could cost so much. I tried to argue with him about the price, and in the end he said, “For you – 700.” I paid for the damages.
On my way home, one of my tires hit something sharp, and I ended up with a flat tire, which I would have to replace. I got hold of someone who takes care of these things for reasonable rates, and he sold me a tire for 75 shekels.
Finally, with all the difficult car problems behind me, I thought to myself, “How terrible to lose so much money.” Then I calculated the loss again – 775 shekels. Suddenly I realized that the sum was not coincidental at all. I am extremely emotional thinking about the special hashgachah here. I went into the house and started singing in a loud voice: Mizmor l’sodah!
I said that perek with great excitement, and in answer to the question in my wife’s eyes, I shared the calculation with her:
On Friday after chatzos I had driven someone from the airport to Yerushalayim and charged 600 shekels. Then, for the ride from Yerushalayim to Modiin Illit that afteroon I charged 175 shekels. Together the two sums came to 775 shekels!
All the money I seemed to have earned on Friday after chatzos had been lost. I experienced what it says in the Shulchan Aruch Harav: Anyone who does work on Erev Shabbos will never see a siman brachah from this work. If he earns something, he will lose it somewhere else.
This was a wondrous he’arah from Shamayim, and a tremendous chizuk to continue to uphold the kabbalos that I had committed to.
