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12-21-06, 08:51 AM
Yesterday a lady came in the shop. She is an attorney from Somerset and has done some business with us in the past. She was exchanging some clothing she had purchased a few days earlier and while she was at the counter she asked me if I had 3 bikes suitable for a family she was shopping for. I assured her I did and asked for some specifics.
She went on to tell me about an unfortunate family, a mother who had 3 kids, a teenage son and daughter, and a 7 year old girl. In the past year she had lost 2 of her older children, one to suicide, and one who was simply found in the forest dead, cause still unknown.
The family lived in poverty and had little more than shelter and the clothes on their backs. They didnt have a vehicle of any kind.
While I showed her some appropriate size bikes in the bottom price range she began to question herself and wonder if she shouldnt just give them money, as she had been doing from time to time. But finally she decided that Christmas for the kids should include presents and so we picked out bikes. The attorney insisted on the $600 range rather than the least expensive. Since the kids would be unable to bring the bikes in for any kind of service on a regular basis (they lived 40 miles from my shop and again, had no transportation), we went with single speed Redline Chromoly bikes so they would be simple to operate and maintain. For the little girl we picked out a coaster brake Trek. The attorney then went over and picked out 3 very nice, mid range priced helmets. I rang up all the items and made sure to create a new sale price for the items given their destination.
She then asked if we could break the bikes down so she could somehow fit them all in her BMW.
Since this was pretty much impossible and I had been inspired by her generosity, I offered to deliver the bikes the 80-mile round trip in my pick up truck, turned a black Ford Santas Sleigh.
I took the directions she gave me, along with a phone number for the lady in case I got lost.
About 10 miles away I placed a call to the number. I wanted to make sure I did not roll up with the bikes if they were supposed to be a Christmas surprise. I told her I was coming and asked how I should handle the delivery. I was told it was o.k., I could just come on up.
I had heard the attorney tell her on the phone that she should tell the children the gifts were from their mother, not a stranger, and to give them as she seen fit. She said when she hung up the phone that the lady was crying.
As I got closer to the house I passed an incredible housing development, repleat with mushroom lights in the driveway, rows of old growth trees overhanging the main entrance, and an iron gate ornate beyond belief. Instead of turning right into the gated community, the directions had me make a left, and my descent into a forgotten, nearly abandoned county road began. It was 4 miles of twisty gravel and broken asphault peppered with disgarded boxes, metal and vehicles. 5th driveway on the left read the directions, with a note that the driveway was very rough.
Rough indeed. The driveway was nothing more than a dried riverbed.
Imagine taking a leaf blower into the woods and clearing a path to the top of a steep hill. This was the driveway. I was glad I was in a 4-wheel drive truck or I would not have made it to the trailer perched on the hillside.
The lattice on the deck of the porch was weathered and torn. The hillside was decorated with abandoned vehicles from 50 years ago.
I pulled up and got out of the truck, only feet away from a pit bull attached to a chain sizing me up for lunch.
As I took the bikes down from the rack and attached front wheels and large red bows the door of the home flew open and and a sweet smile peered out. It was Denise, the mother, and she was really glad to see me. Following her was a young man I took to be the teen age boy.
I returned the smile and asked if she were Denise.
"Yes, thats us."
"Well, Elizabeth sent me, and I am the delivery man." I answered.
I handed the first bike over to the young man who took it, eyes to the ground.
When I finished getting the wheel on the second bike, bow, and retrieving the helmets, I handed off the bike and told the young man I hoped he had a lot of fun with these. He said nothing but mumbled a thank you as he walked back to the porch.
I then turned to leave and told Denise that I hope she had a merry Christmas. She said the same and gave me a firm, "God Bless you".
I hadnt earned her gratitude. I had been nothing more than a delivery man who had actually made a small profit off the sale of the bikes. But she made me feel as if I were her benefactor. Though I was only a small actor in this little play, it was easily the best Christmas gift I have ever received.
She went on to tell me about an unfortunate family, a mother who had 3 kids, a teenage son and daughter, and a 7 year old girl. In the past year she had lost 2 of her older children, one to suicide, and one who was simply found in the forest dead, cause still unknown.
The family lived in poverty and had little more than shelter and the clothes on their backs. They didnt have a vehicle of any kind.
While I showed her some appropriate size bikes in the bottom price range she began to question herself and wonder if she shouldnt just give them money, as she had been doing from time to time. But finally she decided that Christmas for the kids should include presents and so we picked out bikes. The attorney insisted on the $600 range rather than the least expensive. Since the kids would be unable to bring the bikes in for any kind of service on a regular basis (they lived 40 miles from my shop and again, had no transportation), we went with single speed Redline Chromoly bikes so they would be simple to operate and maintain. For the little girl we picked out a coaster brake Trek. The attorney then went over and picked out 3 very nice, mid range priced helmets. I rang up all the items and made sure to create a new sale price for the items given their destination.
She then asked if we could break the bikes down so she could somehow fit them all in her BMW.
Since this was pretty much impossible and I had been inspired by her generosity, I offered to deliver the bikes the 80-mile round trip in my pick up truck, turned a black Ford Santas Sleigh.
I took the directions she gave me, along with a phone number for the lady in case I got lost.
About 10 miles away I placed a call to the number. I wanted to make sure I did not roll up with the bikes if they were supposed to be a Christmas surprise. I told her I was coming and asked how I should handle the delivery. I was told it was o.k., I could just come on up.
I had heard the attorney tell her on the phone that she should tell the children the gifts were from their mother, not a stranger, and to give them as she seen fit. She said when she hung up the phone that the lady was crying.
As I got closer to the house I passed an incredible housing development, repleat with mushroom lights in the driveway, rows of old growth trees overhanging the main entrance, and an iron gate ornate beyond belief. Instead of turning right into the gated community, the directions had me make a left, and my descent into a forgotten, nearly abandoned county road began. It was 4 miles of twisty gravel and broken asphault peppered with disgarded boxes, metal and vehicles. 5th driveway on the left read the directions, with a note that the driveway was very rough.
Rough indeed. The driveway was nothing more than a dried riverbed.
Imagine taking a leaf blower into the woods and clearing a path to the top of a steep hill. This was the driveway. I was glad I was in a 4-wheel drive truck or I would not have made it to the trailer perched on the hillside.
The lattice on the deck of the porch was weathered and torn. The hillside was decorated with abandoned vehicles from 50 years ago.
I pulled up and got out of the truck, only feet away from a pit bull attached to a chain sizing me up for lunch.
As I took the bikes down from the rack and attached front wheels and large red bows the door of the home flew open and and a sweet smile peered out. It was Denise, the mother, and she was really glad to see me. Following her was a young man I took to be the teen age boy.
I returned the smile and asked if she were Denise.
"Yes, thats us."
"Well, Elizabeth sent me, and I am the delivery man." I answered.
I handed the first bike over to the young man who took it, eyes to the ground.
When I finished getting the wheel on the second bike, bow, and retrieving the helmets, I handed off the bike and told the young man I hoped he had a lot of fun with these. He said nothing but mumbled a thank you as he walked back to the porch.
I then turned to leave and told Denise that I hope she had a merry Christmas. She said the same and gave me a firm, "God Bless you".
I hadnt earned her gratitude. I had been nothing more than a delivery man who had actually made a small profit off the sale of the bikes. But she made me feel as if I were her benefactor. Though I was only a small actor in this little play, it was easily the best Christmas gift I have ever received.