The Gift

I was driven all the way to my campsite by Oz, the passerby who stopped to help after seeing me crash. As it happened, he was heading past Newbury on his journey home, and offered to take my bike in the back of his work truck. How did I know this was the right decision – jumping into a strangers vehicle in a foreign country? Perhaps it was simply the way all the pieces came together, but it was clear to me that the universe was offering a solution to my new problem, so I accepted his offer. Oz was soft spoken and had a warm vibe. Yes, Ted Bundy was a charming man and a serial killer, but my gut said this was going to be ok. However, finding myself bloody, shaken and bruised in the cab of his truck crowded with his work gear seemed a bit dreamlike. One minute I’m humming down the road at a good clip, the next I’m having a slo-mo slam on the ground and shortly thereafter bike and gear and self are riding along the motorway. It was a strange and unexpected turn to the day.

I thought about the last hour. People I didn’t know – strangers – had come to my assistance. They responded to my situation with kindness, without being asked. I”d felt awkward and uncomfortable being vulnerable and being taken care of by others. But I had to accept that I needed help and the help was right there. It was just so clear – problem encountered, solution presented. I marveled over the beauty of how this was turning out. I would have been pedaling on, headed toward an uncertain destination, in pain and a bit shockey. The help I was offered was a gift. My ride from Oz was a gift. The universe was telling me something.

Oz patiently found my campsite and unloaded my bike. As I was gathering my gear together, he went and found the camp keeper and had a word. Oz waited to be sure I was good to go, and then I thanked him again and he drove off. I paid the camp keeper £5 of the £6 fee – of course, I hadn’t yet stopped for money or food for camping – and the camp keeper waived off my promise of bringing him the £1 I still owed. A hiker had overheard my situation and came up to give me the £1. Wow, people are killing me with their kindness today! I declined his kind offer and rolled my bike and essential gear to the camp area.

It was a beautiful evening – warm, and the sun still high in the sky at 8pm. I looked around the camp area and saw a good spot and headed for it. I also saw there were other cyclists in camp. I wasn’t alone. I pitched my tent and set up my few creature comforts. I was so high from the day. My bloody leg was like a badge. My heart was filled with the goodness of people. I was humble and grateful and happy.