#84, Dick.

He walks by my work twice every day: on the way to the beach and then back again about 2 hours later. A short, hunched, sprightly man with a belly, he always wears a pair of jeans, a baseball cap, and a Hawaiian shirt. He walks duck-footed and has a gruff but cheerful speaking voice.

One day i got in the elevator with a mountain of groceries and there he was! in the elevator in my building! We were both shocked, until we realized that we both lived here– one of those obvious, but surprising, things. From then on i got a 'hey, neighbor.' every time he walked by.

When my bike was stolen about 2 months ago, he was so angry. i put up a sign with a reward offered, and waited hopefully. Then one day, about a week ago, he told me he had an old bike i could look at if i was so inclined. Realizing that Pierre (my trusty mint-green Motobecane road bike) was truly gone, i accepted his offer, even though he had no idea if it was a mountain bike, a beach cruiser, or what. He was so insistent that i look at it, and i was so convinced it was going to be a 10,000-lb. rusty dinosaur, that the whole interaction found me feeling more than a little apprehensive; how could i say "no, thank you" to this sweet man who obviously only wanted to help but didn't understand my specific needs (something i could lift easily which had several gears)?

Finally the day came, and i followed him out to where he kept this old bike. He whisked away the dusty cover and, lo and behold: it was a silver Motobecane Mirage! It looked almost exactly like Pierre! i was stunned into silence. At first i thought he had actually gone out and procured a bike similar to mine just to be nice, but as we talked more and i looked closely at it, the truth became known. It had belonged to his stepdaughter, who passed away due to drug use some years back. It had been sitting there collecting dust for about 6 years; there were some rust spots and the rubber tires were well into crumbling away to dust.

i expressed my condolences and offered to pay him for it, but he refused! Then i offered to bake him something in exchange, which he also refused. Thanking him profusely, i wheeled it upstairs gingerly and waited for my boyfriend to get home so i could watch his jaw drop in astonishment.

After taking it to the shop for some new tires and basic maintenance, it has become clear that this probably cannot be my replacement bike– mainly, it was built for someone a good 8 inches taller than me. (i could tell that it was a bit bigger than Pierre, but forgot that Pierre himself was a tad too large for me to begin with, just not noticeably so– this one was noticeable.)

So, i'll put some money into it and see what happens. i'll probably ride it around for awhile until it starts to get uncomfortable, then see if i can sell it or trade it for a smaller one. The point is that Dick swooped in, like a knight in shining armor, and saved me from what i didn't really realize i was avoiding: the process of shopping for a new (used) bike. The running around to different bike shops (difficult in sprawling San Diego), the meetings with sketchy people on Craigslist, the chance-taking of eBay, and the stress and inevitable disappointments of it all...

He made me remember the line, "i have always depended on the kindness of strangers." What a truly kind and generous individual.

i ended up giving him a thank-you card and a loaf of banana bread; i can only hope he's not diabetic or gluten-intolerant. (Man, thanking people with baked goods used to be so much easier!)

Thank you, Dick!