Mark H
New member
A small motel parking lot in Utah. I'm closing the top box and about to walk away from our bikes when a young boy and who I assume is his grandmother walk towards me.
They are looking at all of the license plates on the cars. He is excitedly calculating in his mind and out loud which has travelled the farthest. He knows where his home is and he knows where he is now.
I call out to him whilst catching his grandma's eye. "You may want to take at look at these bikes", I say as I point to my wife's and my GS sitting quietly off to the corner of the lot.
He seems a little shy. Nonetheless with his grandmothers gentle reassurance he walks to the back of the bikes and sees the Australian registration. His eyes light up, he has made a discovery, and we talk for a few minutes before they continue on.
There are no walls in parking lots, no barriers to the joy of a child imagining the breadth and expanse of our world.
My wife and I ride motorcycles. We are part of a broader family, a larger community of peoples from places that are not solely defined by the plate on the back of our bikes. We revel in the differences, the peculiarities, the individualities within of the group.
A few days later, the news of Ali's passing came. I wondered if in his lifetime this young boy would ever know of a man like Ali.
They are looking at all of the license plates on the cars. He is excitedly calculating in his mind and out loud which has travelled the farthest. He knows where his home is and he knows where he is now.
I call out to him whilst catching his grandma's eye. "You may want to take at look at these bikes", I say as I point to my wife's and my GS sitting quietly off to the corner of the lot.
He seems a little shy. Nonetheless with his grandmothers gentle reassurance he walks to the back of the bikes and sees the Australian registration. His eyes light up, he has made a discovery, and we talk for a few minutes before they continue on.
There are no walls in parking lots, no barriers to the joy of a child imagining the breadth and expanse of our world.
My wife and I ride motorcycles. We are part of a broader family, a larger community of peoples from places that are not solely defined by the plate on the back of our bikes. We revel in the differences, the peculiarities, the individualities within of the group.
A few days later, the news of Ali's passing came. I wondered if in his lifetime this young boy would ever know of a man like Ali.