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 in their pocket or 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 all drivers to have that much cash on hand in case they are 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.

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 their separate ways. Since there is no insurance, there are no insurance matters to resolve or accident reports to be filed. 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. 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.

Occasionally, I would drive by the jail in Al-Khobar. When I did, I could see the holding cell on the ground floor of the building housing the jail and police station. It had an eight-foot-long barred window facing the street. The ground outside of this window is the same elevation as the floor of the jail cell. Regardless of the temperature outside, and during the Summer, the temperature frequently reaches 120 degrees Fahrenheit, this Jail window is open. In fact, it didn’t appear to have glazing. The open window served two purposes. First, it was there so that family and friends to visit inmates. Second, the family of inmates could provide for their relatives’ needs, including food to supplement the meager meals provided by the jail.

Having that much cash in the car can lead to unique problems. 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 a ten-foot-wide shop space in a commercial building. There was no room in it for a car. It was filled with tools, lubricants, and equipment needed for repairs. It was cluttered with broken car parts. Repairs were done on the car while parked in the street.

It had been over a year since I had thought of that roll of cash wired behind the dashboard instrument panel. I didn’t remember it when I dropped my car off and walked to our apartment for lunch. After lunch, I lay 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 in 110-degree heat the three blocks to the shop. As I ran, I was imagining that if the mechanic had started work on my car, he would surely have found my stash and pocketed it. When the shop came into view, 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.

As I ran up to the open door, 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. I told him, “I saw it fall and saw you put it into your jacket pocket.” After his brief but heated denial, he begrudgingly handed me the roll of cash. I thanked him for his honesty. However, his relinquishing that roll 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 my money, he could have lost his hand, at the regular public executions which took place on Saturdays in front of the central mosque in Dammam.