Finding Kindness

The world has some loving to do. Of course there’s much more to it than that and I’m barely breaking the surface, so instead of beginning a long list, I’ll start with something simple. From the moment I arrived in Davis, I felt welcomed. Perhaps not necessarily by the people, but certainly by the roads. It’s been reported that this little city has the highest recorded number of bicycle commuters in the nation. It’s peaceful, friendly to humans, and quiet, though there’s clearly a lot going on (it is a college town, after all).

I wrestled the bike off the train and attempted to use both pedals but that failed within two blocks. I elected to strap on my clip-less shoe and give it a whirl. I’ll admit, it worked rather well. The spectacle was well worth it too. Left foot working hard, bike moving along at 12-15 mph, right leg madly spiraling in the air. It was a much harder workout than anticipated but I made it to the night’s abode and we set off for dinner (in a car).

Dinner was lovely, as it usually is, and we spoke about family, occupations (or lack thereof), and a worrisome feature of the current Davis night life. Over the last few days, there have been multiple stabbings. As of yet, the victims seem random though they were both in public parks after dark. There’s an edge of fear in everyone.

We make it home and I set up my sleeping mat and bag on the living room floor. I fall asleep to the patter of rain and the thoughts of the big day tomorrow… will I solve my pedal problem?

The morning brings bitter news. Another victim. This time, she survives, though she is in critical care. It’s in this eery space I adventure toward Davis Cyclery. I remove the heavy bags from the bike and strap on my trusty left shoe. I pack a rain coat and a prayer.

I arrive with the expectation that I’ll be replacing a crank shaft (cheaper) or the entire crankset (ouch) and that’s immediately thrown out the door. The man working the counter informs me they don’t stock anything and it’d be a special order. But I’m encouraged to wait a moment to see if he can’t get it back on.

I watch as he diligently sets up a customer’s new bicycle. She’s ecstatic to have a new bike. She says it feels like her birthday, Christmas, and New Years all at once. He works efficiently and methodically. His hands move deftly along the wall to select each required tool and after 20 minutes, he’s ready to tackle my challenge.

After hoisting the bike onto the stand, he inspects the damage. He then retrieves an old Tupperware bin and digs through it for ages. When he finally emerges with a part, I feel some hope, though, admitedly, I’m still quite skeptical. It’s an old pedal part with the same thread and he inserts it into the crank shaft from the wrong side. He slowly tightens, loosens, and tightens again, in an attempt to create a new thread out of the old mangled one.

Quite a bit of time passes and then he asks if I’d be willing to help. I leap at the opportunity and we get to work. It’s another 20 minutes, but eventually it works. The pedal is back in action. He goes off to the back and returns with a brand new wrench. He scratches off the price tag and says he’s 90% sure it won’t come undone, but just in case, I should take that one. He also informs me that I’m squared away because I helped with the repair.

I don’t know what to say, really, but I thank him a lot and then I hit the road. I swing back to my friend’s, load the bike up, and set off. It’s a gorgeous day and the roads are mostly clear and very flat. I push through 65 miles until I arrive at this evening’s hotel. The front desk sign says open, I have a reservation, and yet the doors are locked and there’s no sign of anyone.

I make some phone calls, chat to friends and family, ride down the highway to get dinner, and come back. Nothing. I start to lose faith. Money’s not super tight yet, but it’s going to be. A room here is $95 including taxes. Down the road it’s $120 + tax. I’m patient. And then she arrives. A red SUV pulls into the lot. Children pour out of the doors and run inside. She apologizes and offers a discounted rate because she just had to drive the kids to the doctors.

It’s a busy world. Train horns blare, cars fly down the highway, people hurt people. But not always. And that’s where I’m lucky. Finding kindness, good people, great help, and the feeling that no matter what, tomorrow will work out. Even if it’s unexpected and it takes a while. So here’s to heading to a farm and discovering all the weeds that need to be removed. Or so I think.