I live in a neighborhood with a lot of little kids on bikes. When I would see them I’d always stop them and ask if I could pump their tires or fix their handlebars so they don’t get hurt. One girl was on a bike that was way too small for her so I told her to wait a moment while I ran to my basement to get one of my daughter’s old bikes. I gave it to her and taught her how to shift the gears. She loved it!
More importantly, all the parents and adult neighbors found out I gave her a bike and started saying hello and thanking me for helping out a random child. I’d tell them that the bike has been the greatest thing in my life and if I can help another kid enjoy bicycles I always will. The parents now feel secure enough to send kids a knocking at my door to put their chain back on, replace a seat or pedals and maintain their children’s bikes.
A couple of weeks ago I got a knock on my door from a nine year old named Serenity. She lives about 5 houses up with her grandparents. Her dad was one of the local teens that watched me ride flatland and I tried to show him tricks. When Serenity was a baby, her father died in a motorcycle accident. His parents started taking care of their granddaughter and would stop me as I rode by to tell me how their son would come home and tell them about me and my riding. Anyway, Serenity had a flat tire. I told her I didn’t have a tube but her grandparents could pick one up at Wal-Mart next time they went. She could just let me know when they got it and I’d fix the bike.
About a week ago while I was riding to my flatland spot, her grandmother stopped me and asked if I could get a tube to fix the bike as they couldn’t find the right one. I told her no problem as I had to go to the bike shop in a couple of days anyway. I picked up the tube and that night after work, I went up the street with my tools and pump.
Serenity answered the door with her grandfather. They both met me out back as I got to work. She dipped back into the house as he stayed out there chatting with me. When I finished, she came back out and handed me a note. Embarrassed, I thanked her and put it in my back pocket. Her grandfather tried to give me cash for the repair but I refused. He told me “You can’t go around doing things for free”. I told him that one of the things I want to do with my life is be the old guy in the neighborhood that fixes the kids bikes because I could have used one when I was a child. Reluctantly, he put the money back in his pocket and shook my hand and thanked me again.
When I got home, I opened the note and found a child’s scribble thanking me along with a gift card to the local grocery store. I appreciated the gesture but felt awkward that they snuck one by me. I stashed the card in my wallet so I wouldn’t forget it next time I went shopping. The hand written note was more than enough to make my effort worthwhile.
Yesterday I was in my hometown and stopped by to visit my 80 year old mother. She’s retired and has a small apartment and two large cats. We had a nice visit and before I left, I pulled out the gift card and handed it to her. She told me I didn’t have to do that but I explained the origin story behind the card and how I didn’t really want it in the first place. Giving the card to my mom, who lives on a fixed income, would be a better use for it than I had. Mom thanked me with a hug and I told her that since she spent way more than that on feeding me, I still owed her.
I fixed Serenity’s bike simply because I knew she needed it. I didn’t want anything other than to help a kid. That gift card was a kindness back but made me uneasy as it wasn’t my true motive for fixing the bike. Giving that unwanted gift to my mother, who appreciated it, made the job of changing the flat tire even more rewarding. Ironically, after I got home from my mother’s place, I found myself in the grocery store last night. When I paid the full amount for my food, I didn’t even mind.
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