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HeroicStories #767: Back on Two Wheels
Reaching more than 42,000 subscribers in 118 countries, this is...
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HeroicStories #767: 13 May 2009 www.HeroicStories.com
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Back on Two Wheels Story Editor:
by Carol Joyce Schowalter
Washington, USA
In 2005 the man I was going to marry was killed on his motorcycle, by a
driver who ran a stop sign while impaired by prescription drugs. Even
though I still miss him terribly, his death did not stop me from riding
motorcycles.
In June 2006 I signed up for a bluegrass music camp in Tennessee. I sent
my guitar FedEx, then hopped on my motorcycle and headed east from
Olympia, Washington. The trip combined adventure and doing something my
sweetie would have liked.
After a week at the camp, I rode to Connecticut to visit friends and my
sweetie's family. At my friends' place I had a great time having the
kids beat me at various games, putting together puzzles, running in the
woods, and soaking up the joys of family life. After a side trip into
the Maritimes and new tires, it was time to head home.
I took the scenic route north of the Great Lakes and down into
Minnesota. I visited more friends and stopped by the little town in
southwest Minnesota where my grandmother had grown up. I'd never been
there before.
Then I headed for Fargo, North Dakota for the night, having been away
from home five weeks. I missed my kitties and just wanted to be home.
Early the next morning I loaded the bike to hit the road. Just after
leaving the hotel I came to a large intersection, stopped, looked for
traffic, and began to turn right. As I started, I saw a sign "no right
turn on red". I immediately stopped, but since I'd already started my
turn, I wasn't really prepared to stop. The bike was leaned a bit right
for the turn, and before I could stop it, it went over.
I didn't know what to do, but I couldn't pick it up. It's a big bike, a
BMW R1200GS. I unloaded the duffel bag and the side case I could reach.
Then I just stood there looking at it, trying to figure out how to pick
it up. I've had several back and shoulder surgeries, and those injuries
are limiting.
Two men hurried toward me. They were from a parked van that I hadn't
even seen pass by. They came over and picked up my bike. I hovered
around repeating "Thank you! Thank you!" Without saying a word they
left.
I moved the bike over to the side of the road and loaded up. I was back
on two wheels!
I made it home in two days, thanks to those two silent, nameless men who
took a few minutes out of their busy day to help a biker chick in
distress.
I'm still paying forward their kindness of that day. To them it probably
wasn't a big deal, but it was an act that will forever stay with me.
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Please note our advertiser this week. Our advertisers help bring
HeroicStories to you, so you make our day by purchasing from them. Don
from Florida liked this service, writing, "Just today I was thinking it
would be really cool to send birthday cards to everyone whose birthday I
knew. Everyone likes being thought of, and getting happy mail. Then I
saw the ad in HeroicStories. I've already placed my first order."
In "Waiting For Someone Special", (#766) a grocery cashier gives special
help to an elderly man whose wife was terminally ill.
Steve in Kentucky remembers, "I too have lost a wife, slowly, but much
younger than the subject of the story. My hat is off to the author for
his eloquent answer of "I'm honored". Many people helped me in large
ways and small. People mowed my lawn, fixed meals, cleaned the house and
occasionally paid my mortgage. But the little kindnesses live large in
my memory. The neighbor we barely knew who dropped in, just to listen.
The mailman who sorted my mail. The clerk at the pharmacy who went out
of her way. The continuous string of people that held a door or an
elevator. The cabbie who waited for us because he knew when her
treatments were over, then left me a concerned note the week we didn't
show up. There are no little kindnesses, the smallest thing can be big."
Steve also mentioned that the clerk had expressed fear to our author,
because she had broken a rule to leave her till to help the elderly man.
In further correspondence, our author let us know, "I'm glad to say she
did keep her job, although whether she got a pat on the back from her
employers I don't know. I saw her yesterday and she is still smiling!"
Trisha in Texas sent a comment on "Finding the Courage to Fly" (#765).
"This story reminds me of the time my mom wanted to fly to Oklahoma City
to see my sister's first baby. Mom had never flown on a commercial
airline and was terribly frightened. But she made reservations and was
determined to go. By the time I got her to the airport she was literally
shaking from fear. She told me if I'd dropped her off at the terminal,
she would have paid a cab home. I walked her to the waiting area and sat
with her while we waited for the flight to board. A wonderful woman
asked mom if this was her first flight. When mom said yes, the lady
said, 'Don't you worry, I know what it's like to be a first-time flyer;
I'll get you through it.' When boarding was called, that wonderful woman
linked her arm with mom's, and they walked straight onto the plane.
There are heroes everywhere. I'm glad one of them found my mom."
Terry in Texas: "I remain grateful for your efforts to bring examples of
the kindness we can all offer to our fellow human beings at no real cost
to ourselves. The 'cost' comes when we fail to help someone in need."
Joyce Schowalter, Publisher
Co-Conspirator to Make the World a Better Place
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last updated: May 2005