Greasy Hands

Although it was not sunny outside today, and I typically don't like to go outside during cloudy days, the bike trail was singing it's Siren's Song in my head and I could not get it out. I didn't resist the urge to hop on my greasy old bike and take a trip down the ever popular bike trail. I was not even a quarter mile down the trail when something happened that I did not expect. One of my headphones fell out of my ear and got itself tangled in the chain of my bike. I pulled my bike over with a sigh, realizing that I could not ride any further with it stuck in there.

I've never been afraid of getting my hands dirty. Even as a child I would go from playing Barbies with my dad (yes, dad) to making mud pies out in the yard. I was intrigued by the feel of the cool, slick mud between my fingers. 

I set my bike on the cold grass next to the trail, got down on my knees and got to work. It was a messy job, and I soon found my hands covered in grease. I wasn't entirely sure how long it would take me to get my headphones unwrapped, or if I could even do it at all. As I toiled over this task, cyclists began to pass me by. One, two, three, two more, six, eight, twelve.... it added up rather quickly and I eventually lost count.

I don't look like a typical cyclist. I wear jeans, Chuck's, and a t-shirt during most of my ventures down the trail, and I ride a 20 year old street cruiser that belonged to my late grandmother. It would be obvious to anyone that passed me by that I was not an experienced rider and probably had no idea how to fix whatever problem I was having.

What surprised me was this: no one stopped to ask if I was okay or needed help. Please don't interpret me incorrectly, I don't have an "entitled" mentality or anything of the sort. I just know that if I saw someone in the state I was in on the side of the trail I would pull over without question and make sure they were okay, especially if they were alone like I was. I would offer my aid, even if it was just letting them borrow my phone to call a friend who could help them. 

I don't understand where our sense of community has gone. When did we collectively stop helping our fellow man? When did we all decide to start putting ourselves first? Perhaps it is fear that prevents us from helping a stranger. But how scary looking am I? I'm just an average 18 year old girl, I don't look like the rapists murderers we see on the news.

"Love your neighbor as yourself." Matthew 22:39