Op-Ed: Why Did You Make Me Almost Kill You?

by Chaim Gravitzer

It was Friday afternoon at the intersection of Brooklyn Avenue and Montgomery Street—the most dangerous time of the week. The streets were crowded with students and families rushing home for Shabbos. I was driving carefully, within the speed limit, and I had the right of way.

Then a bochur on an e-scooter rode straight into the intersection on a red light—without yielding and without looking.

In one terrifying second, my car almost became the instrument of tragedy.

Baruch Hashem, I swerved and stopped in time. He continued down Brooklyn Avenue without even realizing what had almost happened. But the question still haunts me: why was this allowed to happen?

The Torah commands us, “Venishmartem me’od lenafshoseichem” — guard your lives very carefully. This is not advice. It is a mitzvah. A child or teenager who darts into traffic without looking is not just being reckless; he is violating a Torah obligation to protect life—his own and the driver’s.

And what about the driver? The Torah says, “Lo ta’amod al dam re’echa” — do not stand by while your fellow’s blood is spilled. But what happens when someone forces another Jew into a moment where bloodshed (almost) occurs? R”L

If I had hit him, even accidentally, G-d forbid, my life would never be the same. My wife and children would carry that trauma. My livelihood could be destroyed. I would live forever with the image of a child in front of my car.

Why should my family pay that price because someone did not yield or look?
Why should a careful driver be handed a lifetime of guilt—or worse?
Why should one person’s carelessness endanger two families?

Where are the parents who must teach their children how to cross a street?
Where are the schools that teach Torah but forget to teach safety?
Where is our communal responsibility?

Chazal and the Rambam teach that avoiding danger is part of preserving life itself. This is not modern traffic law—it is halacha. A busy intersection (on a Friday afternoon) is a place of sakana. Treating it casually is not just foolish; it is forbidden.

We cry after tragedies. We say Tehillim. We ask how such things happen. But are we willing to speak before the tragedy?

We teach our children kashrus and Shabbos. Do we teach them to stop, look, and yield?
We teach them not to hurt others. Do we teach them not to place others in impossible situations?

A teenager who rides into traffic is not only risking his own life—he is forcing a driver into a test no human being should face: Will I become responsible for death today?

That is not fair.
That is not normal.
And that is not Torah.

Before the next siren.
Before the next broken family.
Before the next headline.

Let parents, schools, and leaders say this clearly: traffic safety is chinuch. Guarding life is avodas Hashem. Carelessness in the street is not acceptable—it is dangerous and it is forbidden.

No driver should ever have to ask:

Why did you make me almost kill you?