As I came out of the bakery in town this morning, a group of ‘bikers’ was just setting off from the other side of the street. I won’t pretend to know what sort of motorbikes they rode, except that they definitely weren’t Harleys, but the riders were all fitted out in their leather pants and jackets and their black helmets. They were quite a sight and got a lot of attention when they started up their machines. The most noticeable thing about them though, was that every single one of them had a lot more grey hair than me.
Their bikes were laden with packs and sleeping bags, so I can only presume that they were travelling quite a distance and had been in town overnight (not the most exciting place to stop in, but I guess they just stop where they have to). As they rode along the street, their eyes were intent on the road ahead. Next stop, Perth.
Then the last biker set off. He must have been in his sixties, with a white beard and white hair flowing out of the back of his helmet. He could have played the part of Santa Clause without any trouble. His sleeping bag had an Australian flag design and he looked a bit lost amongst all his gear. But the biggest thing on the bike was his smile. He rode along, waving at everyone he passed, his face so full of joy at what he was doing that it was impossible to not feel happier at having seen him. It added just a little more sunshine to the day.
I don’t know who he was, but I’d like to thank him for letting his love of life leak out into a quiet country street. It’s the sort of thing that should happen more often.