A decade ago, when I hitchhiked across Africa, I thought of my journey as a social experiment. I was a fish out of water and knew nothing of the continent, the roads, the people, or the languages -- and I needed help to get everywhere I was going. I was greeted with warmth, dignity, and kindness from virtually everyone I met. I couldn't have done the journey without the aid of hundreds of strangers and acquaintances.
I hadn't thought about the human angle as much this time. But less than a week in, I'm receiving the same treatment, and once again, I really need it. As mentioned, I left my gloves in a restaurant and a kind stranger ran them out to me. I left my backpack (containing my passport and many other important items) in a gas station bathroom, of all places, and a young man picked it up, surmised that it was mine, and handed it to me with a smile before I drove off without it.
There was the Pizza Experience down in Clear Lake, where I was hungry and given food by three strangers who asked nothing in return.
And then there was Target in Eureka. At the end of my longest and most challenging ride to date, I stopped for a few items, brought them to the checkout counter, declared that I was pooped from a big day -- and promptly left my wallet, containing all of my money, cards, and driver's license -- right there next to the cash register and drove to my hotel.
I didn't realize it was gone for about 90 minutes. After thoroughly searching my possessions twice, I knew what I had to do. And I was worried. I'm told that Eureka has many nice neighborhoods, some beautiful views and hikes, and some good people. But the neighborhood surrounding my hotel (and the Target) seemed a little gritty. When I arrived at the hotel, I noticed a telltale abandoned chair on the nearest street corner. An old microwave loitered on the very next block. I parked my bike in the lot near my room and noticed someone inside the dumpster maybe 20 feet away, rummaging around. Other questionable characters seemed to live on that block, including a heavily tattooed lady who took up residence under the stairs about 8 feet from my hotel room door and muttered to herself with a high level of urgency and persistence.
So back to Target I went. I asked the cashier if she remembered seeing my wallet. She looked at me with zero recognition, said no, and directed me to the Guest Services counter. I walked up knowing that this was a big moment. I asked about the wallet, and to my surprise and jubilation, they produced it. I in turn presented my passport, the one item I hadn't kept in the wallet, and my cards and cash were mine once again. The guy who handed them over rode a dirt bike, and he smiled and said he knew it was easy to be rattled after a long ride.
Eureka may be rough around the edges in spots, but I'll always be grateful for its citizens, who rescued my journey from an early roadblock in an act of pure altruism. Thanks guys, you found it.
I hadn't thought about the human angle as much this time. But less than a week in, I'm receiving the same treatment, and once again, I really need it. As mentioned, I left my gloves in a restaurant and a kind stranger ran them out to me. I left my backpack (containing my passport and many other important items) in a gas station bathroom, of all places, and a young man picked it up, surmised that it was mine, and handed it to me with a smile before I drove off without it.
There was the Pizza Experience down in Clear Lake, where I was hungry and given food by three strangers who asked nothing in return.
And then there was Target in Eureka. At the end of my longest and most challenging ride to date, I stopped for a few items, brought them to the checkout counter, declared that I was pooped from a big day -- and promptly left my wallet, containing all of my money, cards, and driver's license -- right there next to the cash register and drove to my hotel.
I didn't realize it was gone for about 90 minutes. After thoroughly searching my possessions twice, I knew what I had to do. And I was worried. I'm told that Eureka has many nice neighborhoods, some beautiful views and hikes, and some good people. But the neighborhood surrounding my hotel (and the Target) seemed a little gritty. When I arrived at the hotel, I noticed a telltale abandoned chair on the nearest street corner. An old microwave loitered on the very next block. I parked my bike in the lot near my room and noticed someone inside the dumpster maybe 20 feet away, rummaging around. Other questionable characters seemed to live on that block, including a heavily tattooed lady who took up residence under the stairs about 8 feet from my hotel room door and muttered to herself with a high level of urgency and persistence.
So back to Target I went. I asked the cashier if she remembered seeing my wallet. She looked at me with zero recognition, said no, and directed me to the Guest Services counter. I walked up knowing that this was a big moment. I asked about the wallet, and to my surprise and jubilation, they produced it. I in turn presented my passport, the one item I hadn't kept in the wallet, and my cards and cash were mine once again. The guy who handed them over rode a dirt bike, and he smiled and said he knew it was easy to be rattled after a long ride.
Eureka may be rough around the edges in spots, but I'll always be grateful for its citizens, who rescued my journey from an early roadblock in an act of pure altruism. Thanks guys, you found it.
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