"Look, Tzvi," Condi said to him, "your mother and I went through the crisis of your repentance, you are our only son, I love you and respect you, but do me a favor, stop sticking stickers with slogans on my jeep, and not on the cars of the clients in the garage, it makes the clients angry." Tzvi didn't exactly hear, and at least once or twice a week he would come to his father's garage and paste. He would glue and Condi would take it out. The rear window of the family jeep was loaded with colorful stickers Lots of hope, love and faith. Tzvi catches up, Condi takes it off. It has become the norm that they have already stopped being angry about.
At 6:30 a.m. on a weekday, while the kettle was boiling the water for his morning cup of coffee, Condi angrily uprooted six new stickers that Zviki had pasted on the rear window of the jeep. "It gets on my nerves sometimes," Condi murmured. At 7:30 A.M., Condi got into the jeep and headed for the garage. At the entrance to the industrial zone, there was a long traffic jam. Lots of beeps, buses, children with bags on their shoulders, an oppressive traffic jam. Condy was listening to the morning diary, his leg changing pressures, sometimes brakes, sometimes gas. Behind him was a silver Mercedes that conveyed luxury. Only at 8:00 A.M. did the traffic jam come loose and Condi accelerated the jeep toward the garage, right to left and right again. The silver Mercedes was still behind him. Condi parked the jeep in front of the garage, and the Mercedes stopped next to him. A man dressed in a fancy suit got out of the Mercedes and walked over to the bewildered Condi. Sir, The man said, "You saved my life, just like that, you won't believe it, but thanks to you I am alive. You have no idea what you did for me..."
Condi looked into the young man's eyes with curiosity mixed with pity, "I hope this type is normal. I'm confused...?" the garage owner thought. "We don't know sir" "I don't ever remember saving someone's life. I wasn't a combat soldier, and I wasn't a volunteer at MDA. Good morning to you and have a good day." The elegantly dressed young man stood in front of Condi and said, "My name is Oren Ginzburg, a businessman, about a year ago I made some irresponsible economic moves, which is not the place to go into detail. Yesterday, I was informed by Bank of America that they were seizing my assets and accounts. The whole of the world. The Mercedes you see is also curved. Tomorrow it will be taken from me. I am before you, a broken vessel. I had a night that was darker than black. This morning I decided to finish... I have lost the taste of life, dozens of people have lost their livelihood because of me... And I was on my way to take a unilateral step to leave for the world – which is probably all good, due to terrible despair and helplessness. I started the Mercedes in order to reach the cliffs of the sea on my last journey. And there was a traffic jam. And you were in front of me. And I looked at the rear window of your jeep and there was a huge sticker affixed to it, in yellow letters on a black background: "God is with you, with you and with you, despair does not exist in the world at all. Everything will turn for the better." For almost 40 minutes, these words flicker before my eyes. I keep reading, Time after time. And suddenly I felt inner joy, self-confidence, a desire to live, a desire to change the situation. There is a G-d, He is with me, He will save me, how does it say on your sticker, everything will turn for the better." And again embarrassment.
Condi shook Ginsburg's hand and said to him, "My friend, I believe you will get out of the situation. How does it say here... There's no despair, so come on, run to your business, fight against the banks, you're young, life is ahead of you." "Thank you, thank you for everything" and they shook hands and said goodbye kindly. Condi stood behind his white jeep and thought, "After all, I tore off six stickers in the morning, everything that was pasted, and here Tzvi hung another sticker without me noticing. Condi began to read the sticker "God is with you and with you, despair does not exist in the world at all, everything will turn for the better." And then a wonderful thought crossed the mind of Menachem Conditon, the mechanic: "I can't believe, I really can't believe it, one small sticker that hangs barely an hour on the rear window of my jeep brought joy – life and encouragement to a desperate Jew – between life and death – and brought back the color to his face. Who knows what light the Torah brings into a person's heart, after all, my Tzviki is like a torch of light and love."
Suddenly the phone rang. Zviki was on the line. "Dad, I love you the most in the world. You are my holiest man, I ask for forgiveness, in the morning you took off all the stickers but without you feeling I put another sticker before you left. Father, don't be angry, I just want our jeep to advertise that there is no despair in the world at all, to explain to people that there is a father in heaven who loves and cares for them. You're not angry, Dad, are you?" Condi nodded his head and said affectionately, "Angry? I've never been angry." A year and a half has passed. In the morning, a blue Mercedes glides slowly towards Condi's garage. The sun and its doors are full of eye-catching stickers. Condy's jeep is a small toy, as opposed to the Mercedes stickers that are glued on all sides. Oren Ginzburg, the businessman, came in. Condi looks at him with a scrutinizing eye. "We know each other, don't we?" "Yes," Ginsburg replies, "I'm from the sticker, I wanted to make you happy, from that morning of the sticker, I was very motivated. I turned the world upside down, I brought in partners, I got credit, I repaid debts, and thank God, the business wheel turned for the better." "I'm happy," said Condi, "that's a reason to drink for life." He took a small kippah out of his pocket, pulled out a bottle of whiskey with two glasses, and poured it into Ginzburg. "My son said that we should recite the blessing 'Shehakol Neheb Be-Dov' over whiskey, wait a minute, Mr. Ginzburg." "You don't need Condi, my kippah has been on my head for a year and a half, ever since I met your sticker." "That's my son Tzvi's sticker, he's responsible for the infections." The two greeted and sipped the whiskey.
Suddenly – like a storm wind – Zviki entered the office and said: "Dad, you won't believe it, I've never seen a car glued with stickers so beautiful, from all sides. A piece of car that can bring back the entire coastal road... Condi and Ginzburg burst out laughing. "I came back to life, and I repented thanks to your sticker," Ginsburg said. "You see, Dad," Tzviki rejoiced, "you have received a signal from the Creator of the world, what can a small sticker do, especially when he is on your holy jeep."
