The importance of a name

There are already so many stories from this trip, but I know this story will be in my head for a long time.

It starts with me running out of gas this morning. Stupid, rookie mistake. I asked if the rental had a full tank... we checked to make sure. It didn't, so they said they would fill it. I believed them. I also asked what the MPG was, as older bikes don't have gas gauges. He said "50". I said 50 per gallon, or per tank? He just repeated "50". I figured I would play it safe and fill it before it hit 50. Except that I ran out of gas at 35. Lesson learned, check your own tank before you drive off!

So I am near the top of a very long hill somewhere in Malibu on the Pacific Coast Highway. I can't see anything in either direction, and for a moment I'm lost. It's 7am, and the few cars that are around are driving by pretty quickly. As I'm looking around, I hear a voice from across the way. It's a homeless guy walking down the hill on the opposite side of the highway. He asks if I'm ok. I laugh and tell him I'm out of gas. He crosses over and tells me he was a biker, and he'll always help another biker out. I asked if he knew of a gas station anywhere nearby. He said there was one back down the hill. He offered to help me push the bike up the hill to turn around at the intersection, but I said I was alright.  The bike was light, and the intersection wasn't far. He wished me luck and crossed over again to continue walking.

After pushing the bike 50 yards or so to the intersection and turning it around, I started coasting downhill towards the gas station. I quickly came upon the same guy walking. He had been so kind, I couldn't just pass him. I asked if he wanted a ride down the hill, and he could show me where the gas station was. He smiled and hopped on the back of my bike, and we coasted down probably a mile until we got to the gas station. He hopped off and wished me luck again, but we ended up chatting a bit. He told me about a bike rally nearby to help abused and abandoned women and children. He shared that he had been abused and abandoned, but that he still had his faith. I thanked him for being so kind and gave him a $20. He thanked me then and told me his name was Marty. And then he walked on.

I've thought about him all day. Walking around Venice beach the other day, I saw so many homeless people. It's amazing here, I've never seen so many. It's a hard thing to see, but once you walk past you tend to put it out of your mind. Nameless, faceless strangers.

But they aren't nameless. I learned that from Marty today. We talk about 'the homeless population', we read about them on the news, we wonder what can be done. Maybe just knowing their names is the first step.

Talking to strangers

It's a joke in our house how much I enjoy talking to strangers. It is honestly one of my all-time favorite things. People are like living books to me, always a good story hiding in there. Sometimes it's a story you never expected.

I am on a solo trip to California, a place I've never been, and this trip is not disappointing me with its share of talkative strangers. Fitz dropped me off at Logan early this morning, and there was already a line out the door of the United terminal. But lines are the best places to talk to people. The woman in front of me gave me an immediate, friendly hello and asked where I was going. It turned out she was a special needs adult who had been visiting family in Boston, and heading back to her group home in Michigan. I learned that she is very involved in Special Olympics and participated in the World Special Olympics for snowshoeing. She was very excited to get back to see her boyfriend in the group home to celebrate his 50th birthday. I told her I was turning 50 too, and she immediately asked if she could give me a birthday hug. Made my day and it was only 7am!

After arriving at LAX, I needed to figure out how to get to Marina Del Rey. Seeing as how LAX is bigger than Maynard, I was pretty lost at the start. But this was just another excuse to talk to strangers. I was amazed at how friendly and helpful most people were. With a bit of help, I finally found the right bus to get on, but then couldn't figure out how to pay. I had a 1 and a 5, but I needed exact change for the $1.25 fare. The bus driver was so nice and was just going to take my 1, but an older man stepped up and handed me a quarter. He was so nice and I sat next to him and thanked him. I found out he had come from Mexico 30 years ago and works construction in the area.

I finally arrived in Marina Del Rey, and I was starving. I walked for a ways until I found a cafe right on the marina, and stopped for some lunch. After I was finished, I realized I had about an hour before I could check in to my AirBnB. I sat out on a bench outside the restaurant and was just people watching everyone coming in and out. After a while, an older man approached me and said, "I know you don't know me, but I just had an emotional experience and wanted to share it." It turns out he was 86 years old, and just met with old school friends he hadn't seen in almost 70 years. We had an amazing talk about getting older, and the relationships that come and go over the years.

It's only day one of this trip, and I'm so happy with the stories I've already been lucky enough to hear!