These scenarios are something that I think about a lot. When I’m on my motorcycle and dressed in my road-dirty gear, in spite of all the bad press and “biker stereotypes” it seems that people tend to find me approachable and will regularly strike up conversations. Far more so than when I’m walking around in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.
Over the years there have been countless numbers of people who I’ve shared passing pleasantries with. There have been a million quick chats while standing on lines, at gas pumps, in parking lots. Sometimes there are exchanged glances from the side of the road or with a driver in traffic. No words were spoken but there was something, some human interaction that passed between our eyes.
Sometimes a complete stranger will gravitate to you and feel safe enough to share their tale. It can take you by surprise. Their candidness, joy and yes, sometimes sorrow rises to the surface and you become a vessel to take in their story as it pours out.
Why did they pick you? What let them know that you would listen to their dream, to their grief? And why, in my case, is it only when I’m out on my motorcycle? Perhaps that is when I am most relaxed and open and universe is picking up on that.
Years later I will recall a moment out of the blue, a phrase or sentence uttered by a stranger. Sometimes I wonder if there are people out there in the world that remember me too.
What mark do we leave in the mind of a stranger? Let’s try to make it a good one, okay?
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