buy me some coffee…
Posted on November 28, 2004
Filed Under bikes
There’s this man I see around town. I’ve noticed him because of the way he gets around. He has a bicycle, and he uses it, but he doesn’t exactly ride it. He sort of shuffles along while straddling the bike. It’s almost like the bike is his two wheeled walker. He looks like he could be more than seventy years old and he’s very frail, so he may need some help standing. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him without the bike. Whether he’s moving along or just standing there, he’s always got that bike underneath him. I see him all over town, so I know he gets around, even if not too quickly.
Yesterday, I pull up to a stoplight where he’s posted with his bike. He’s got a sign saying he’s homeless and asking for help. Because the weather’s nice, my window is down, so for a few moments we are face to face just a few feet from each other. He looks past me, slightly above me, but I still feel like he’s looking straight at me. He’s quiet for a moment, then loudly and strongly says “buy me some coffee.”
I’m actually on my way to the coffee shop but running an errand first. The light turns green and the car behind me blows its horn when I don’t move. There isn’t any time for me to dig in my bag for coffee money. I tell him that I’m running an errand, and I’ll give him some coffee money on my way back. I mean it sincerely, but five minutes later I pull up to the same intersection to find him being harassed by a cop. The cop parked in the intersection with the red and blues flashing, and he got out to talk with the man. But from the way the cop is standing (all puffy chested) and from the smirk of authority on his face, I know they’re not talking… they’re not having a civilized conversation. Conversations happen between equals, and it’s obvious the cop doesn’t think this man is his equal.
I think for a moment about intervening. I’d say the man is my grandfather and offer to take him with me to get coffee if the cop would just leave him alone. I could even throw his bike on my bike rack and whisk him away from the oppressive authority figure. But then I think about what it would take to separate the man from his bike, even if only for a few minutes. Surgery comes to mind. It wasn’t pretty. Then I think about the unusualness of the bike riding above him for a while (on the roof rack), when he’s so used to the bike being underneath him… like the bike is riding him. Daydreaming ends abruptly when the light turns green, and again I have to leave him in that intersection with no coffee money.
I’m approached for money all the time. I usually don’t give out any because I usually don’t have any to give. Something about the way this man asked for coffee money spoke to me. No… he didn’t ask for coffee… it was more like he told me I could buy him some. Coffee and bicycles are dear to me. I think everyone in the world should be able to drink good coffee and ride a bike. So when this fellow bicyclist let me know that I could get some coffee for him, I was almost thankful he let me know. I just wish I’d had the money more handy.
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