This year, I booked an early morning flight to Baltimore, eager to visit family and talmidim, attend the Yeshiva’s Yarchei Kallah, and, most importantly, join the dinner event. My flight went smoothly, and I touched down in Baltimore just after seven. I made my way to the shuttle for the rental car terminal and approached the counter where my reservation awaited.

I had rented cars many times before and didn’t anticipate any issues. “License, please,” the woman behind the desk asked. I handed it over, just as I had a few hours earlier at the TSA checkpoint. She swiped my card through the machine and handed it back. “Sorry, but I can’t give you a rental today,” she said. Confused, I asked, “I thought I had a reservation?” She pointed to my license and said, “Sir, this is an expired license.” 

I glanced at my license, shocked by what she had just said. She was right—it had expired two weeks ago, and I had no idea. For some reason, I hadn’t received any notifications, and this was the first time I was finding out. "So, what are my options?" I asked, trying to process the situation. "Well, some states allow you to renew your license online, and it’s effective immediately, so that might work for you," she replied. I didn’t have internet access, so I asked if I could use their computer. "No, sir, we can't allow that," she responded. Feeling stuck, I turned to the workers behind the counter. "Maybe I could use one of your phones to do it?" I suggested. They didn’t seem amused by the question. "Oh, we don’t feel comfortable doing that," they said, offering no alternative.

I needed to get into Baltimore to daven Shacharis, and the minutes were ticking by. I had to figure this out quickly, or I’d have no choice but to take an Uber into town and deal with the license later. I called my mother, knowing she was awake, and asked her to visit the Connecticut DMV website to see if she could process my application. “Can you help me with my license renewal?" "Moshe Dov," she replied, "the website is down for scheduled maintenance. It doesn’t look like this will work right now."

I was about to order an Uber when another Yid walked into the rental car terminal. He had just flown in on a red-eye from Los Angeles for the dinner and was about to rent a car. I didn’t know him, but figured it was worth a shot. "Are you going into town?" I asked. "Yes," he replied. "Could I get a ride?" I asked, hopefully. "With pleasure," he said, a smile spreading across his face. "Actually”, he continued “I had just missed the last shuttle, the one you were on by a second and was frustrated waiting ten minutes for the next one. Now I know why! If I would have been on your shuttle I would have been long gone by now!" I could see the shock on the faces of the workers behind the counter as they watched a stranger offer another stranger a ride. 

I wasn’t shocked—because we weren’t strangers at all. In fact, we were brothers! Licenses may expire but brothers never do!  

Rabbi Moshe Dov Heber is a Middle School Rebbi in Yeshiva K’tana of Waterbury, the Director of the Mishmar Evening Program in Waterbury and Division Head in Camp Romimu. He is a frequent contributor to various publications on areas related to education and inspiration as well as speaks publicly. Rabbi Heber can be reached via email at mdheber@ykwaterbury.org