At the end of last year, I moved to Venice. I love the area for its quirkiness, artiness, its proximity to the beach and at times, its grunginess. As that’s how it was throughout most of my life growing up in Los Angeles. Sure, it’s becoming gentrified, but still manages to hold on to its seedier side. A part of which, unfortunately, is an extremely large homeless population. I’ve grown so accustomed to it, that I kind of turn off my brain to the problem. I just take it in, as part of the scenery as I’m out and about. I know, I know. That sounds very shallow, but it’s such an overwhelming problem, that I often don’t think there is much one can do on a personal level and that it’s generally a problem that needs to be addressed by the city as a whole, but I digress. I want to get back to what inspired me to write again, after all these months away. Before I forget this event that I not only want to remember, but feel needs to be shared.
I had hopped on my beach cruiser, as I often do on the weekends, to run errands. On my way back to my place. I was stopped at the intersection of Lincoln and Washington, one of the busier intersections in the area, when motorcycle pulled up a few lanes over, as we waited for the light. As I usually do, I took a moment to check out the guy’s motorcycle. Having a class M license, but never having pulled the trigger on a motorcycle myself, I often contemplate buying one. Still waiting for the light, I hear honking and see a homeless woman in a wheelchair, ignoring the don’t walk signal and wheeling herself out into oncoming traffic. Cars stopped. Horns honked. I just watched. It being Venice and all I thought to myself “another crazy homeless person”. Suddenly, the rider puts the kick stand down and gets off his motorcycle at the light. He throws up his arms, stopping traffic, runs out into the street and hurriedly pushes the woman and her wheelchair to safety, to the other side of the intersection Myself, still firmly seated on my bike, and everyone else safely in their vehicles, just sit and watch. I then notice the guy is wearing desert camo pants, a beige top, military boots and is in excellent shape. He asks the woman if she’s OK. She says something to the extent of “thank you, my hero”. At which he gives her a thumbs up, jumps back on his motorcycle, seconds before the light turns green and rides off into the still rising sun, northbound on Lincoln.
I sat there a second. A mixture of inspiration and shame washed over me. Me or anyone else there at the intersection, could have and should have done the same thing, but we didn’t. And sure, with all the cars stopping and honking, she most likely wouldn’t have been hit by a car, but there’s no guarantee. He put himself in danger to help someone in need. Now, I have no concrete evidence, outside of his clothing, that he was in the US military, but given his actions, I tend to believe he was. It gave me a sense of pride, that despite all the negative news we are often inundated with regarding the war, that people with good intentions are still joining our armed forces. I know you’ll never read this, but thank you motorcycle rider, for giving me inspiration today and for teaching me a harsh lesson. Do the right thing, even when it’s not the easiest, most convenient or safest thing to do. Actions always speak louder than thoughts or words.