A while back, over coffee, I told a story to a friend of
mine and now I would like to share it with you. Years ago my wife and I had
stopped for the night at a motel in Chamberlain, South Dakota. As I was getting
our bags out of the car, there, right next to me in the parking lot, were two
men wiping down their Harleys and covering them up for the night. I noticed
they had Florida registrations so I remarked, “You’re a long way from home.”
One of the men, who looked gaunt and exhausted, said with a tired smile, “We’re
only half as far as we once were.”
He went on to tell me that they were on their way back to
Florida after riding up to Fairbanks, Alaska. “Wow, what a trip,” I said. He
looked at me quietly for a second—I sensed he wasn’t sure if he wanted to carry
on the conversation or not—but he finally said, “I am fulfilling a dream.”
There were tears in his companion’s eyes who, up to then, had said nothing,
just standing there and buttoning up his bike cover. Not knowing where this was
going, intrigued, I set my bags down.
“A few months ago,” the man continued, “I was told I had six
months to live. One of my dreams had always been to take a trip like this. A
week after my diagnoses, I knew it was now or never. I rented two motorcycles,
and my friend took off six weeks from his job to go with me, ride shotgun, to
make sure I was going to be safe.
I could not have done it without him, and now I’m going home to my
family to die.”
I was at a loss for words, but I shook his hand and his friend’s
hand, wishing them well. I went up to my room with tears in my eyes. My wife,
worried about where I had been, asked what was I doing. “Just talking to some
friends,” I said. She looked at me like she didn’t understand, but let it ride,
and we went to bed. As I laid there in the dark that night, I couldn’t stop
thinking about the man and his friend. As sad as the situation was, there was a
victory here, and a profile in courage. He got to live his dream because of a
lot of people. His friend, who put his life on hold to go with him, and his
family, who unselfishly gave up a lot of the short time they had left together
to let him accomplish what he had to do.
I have talked often about this trip throughout life, and the
people who have made it so worthwhile by sharing their lives with me. Although
I never knew the man’s name, my life was better off for having met him that
night. He could have just said nothing when I addressed him, or told me to buzz
off. Instead, he chose to share that story with me a complete stranger, and to
this day I have wondered why. Was it pride in what he had accomplished, or was
it because he just wanted to share the love? I guess I will never know, but if
what he told me was true—and I have no reason to believe otherwise—he is long
gone from this earth, but his story will live on for as long as I do, anyway.
When we left the next morning, the Harleys were gone, but that night will
always live on in my mind.
There comes a
time when you have to dare to live your dreams. Life is uncertain, even when
you haven’t been given a deadline. Seize the moment.
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