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.
5 comments:
Thank you for sharing this story and the beautiful truth!
I was lucky to be the hobo you chose to marry:) Everything you write captures who you are!
You probably made Marty's day (or week!) by interacting, trusting him and listening to his story. You are a kind and wise soul. The number of homeless people living in California always floored me too... I buy Spare Change whenever I see a vendor in Boston and even if I don't give change to others, I try to look them in the eye and say hello, so they don't feel invisible. It's a sad, sad problem our society has got to try to solve... :(
It’s all about names. Both hearing a persons name and saying your name. I always ask names, hotel staff, hospital nurses, sales staff, customer service people on the phone, it opens the conversation in a mutual respectful way.
Meeting people when I travel and hearing the stories always makes the meeting more memorable. You my friend are living it. Thanks for the good writing.
Enjoy the time.
Solo traveling is a gift .
You and Marty made the world a better place today, enjoy the rest of the journey.
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