You will find short stories on this site. Most are autobiographical. Some are fiction.

ON DRIVING IN ARABIA

CRASH CASH

When I lived in Saudi Arabia, in the 1980s, every driver was expected to have a couple thousand dollars worth of Saudi Riyals, hidden in their car. Saudis were more likely to carry the bulky bundle of bills in a money belt under their loose-fitting thobes. My roll of crash cash was wired under the dashboard of my SUV. It was necessary for me to have that much cash on hand, in case I was involved in a collision.

It is easy to see how accidents could happen there. If I were to stop at a stop sign, there is a good chance that the car behind me would run into my rear end. The sign, which is clearly written “S-T-O-P” in English and also in Arabic, doesn’t mean that one is actually supposed to stop. What it means is that you are expected to make a “Saudi stop”. This is where you slow down just enough to judge the speed of the cross traffic, to see if you can dart across the intersection before the other car gets there. This is done without letting on that you have seen the other car.

If I were to be rear-ended, because I came to a full stop, it would be difficult to assign blame. Determining fault in such situations could be contentious. Imagine the situation, considering that it would be likely we would not share a common language. When an automobile accident occurs the two drivers are required to come to an agreement regarding which driver was at fault and the cost of repairs. The guilty party must pay that amount to the aggrieved party in cash. Checks are not trusted. Once payment is made the two drivers are free to go on their way. There are no insurance matters to resolve, or accident reports to be filled. If, on the other hand, the two drivers can not come to a settlement, the police will haul both of them off to jail, where they will be put in the common holding cell. There they will stay until they settle their differences and appropriate payment is arranged. There are no traffic courts and no lawyers. It is up to the two individuals to settle their differences by themselves.

Occasionally I would drive by the jail in Al-Khobar. When I did, I could see that the holding cell was on the ground floor. It had a long barred window along one side. The ground next to this window was the same level as the floor in the cell. Regardless of the temperature outside, and it is frequently 120 degrees Fahrenheit during the Summer, this window didn’t appear to have glazing. It was there so family and friends to visit inmates. Through that window, the family could provide for their relative’s needs and could supplement the meager jail meals.

I had been driving my used SUV for more than a year when it developed an air conditioning problem. I took it to the neighborhood auto repair shop. Like other auto repair shops in Al Khobar, this shop was in a 10-foot wide shop space in a larger building. There was no room in it for a car. It was filled with tools, lubricants, and other equipment needed for repairs. It also was cluttered with broken car parts. Repairs were done while the car was parked in the street. I dropped my car off and walked to our apartment to have lunch. After lunch, I laid down for a nap. As I drifted off, a voice popped into my head saying, “Your crash cash is still in your car”. I jumped up, put on shoes, and ran to the shop imagining that if the mechanic had started work on my car he would surely have found my stash and pocketed it. As I approached I could see the mechanic’s legs protruding from the front door of my vehicle. He was working under the instrument console. He had certainly taken my roll of Riyals. I imagined him insisting that there was no cash under the dash.

I walked up to my car and as I did, I saw my roll of bills fall from its hiding place into the mechanic’s hand. Unaware that I was watching, he quickly jammed it into his pocket. I spoke, saying “I’ll take that.” He looked surprised at my being there and upset that I had caught him pocketing it. After a brief, but heated denial, he begrudgingly handed me the roll of money. I thanked him for his honesty. However, his relinquishing that roll of cash was probably not so much an act of honesty as it was his being aware that if he were found, by the police, to have taken money, that was not his, he could well have lost his hand, at one of the regular public executions in front of the central mosque in Dammam.