The day had already been difficult. I was hungry, my feet ached, and my shift ended late. I still had a long way to go before I reached home, but my bike was breaking down.
Then I noticed the blue and red lights blinking.
My heart was racing. Had I made a mistake? Perhaps I was reported, or perhaps my bike was missing reflectors. This can’t be good, either way.
My head racing, I gripped my handlebars and pulled over. After getting off, the officer glanced at my bike and then at me. Nothing was visible on his face.
I braced myself for the worst—a fee, a citation, or perhaps something worse.
He inhaled deeply before saying something that stopped my heart in its tracks.
“Are you aware of my identity?” His tone was softer than I had anticipated when he asked.
“No,” I responded in a trembling voice. “Should I?”
After removing his hat and running a hand through his graying hair, he nodded. “Your dad and I used to work together.”
It was like being punched in the gut. My father? It has been five years since he left. His sudden, sad death in a vehicle accident when I was nineteen left a void in my life that nothing could ever replace. My relationship with him seems to have waned with time. However, this man was now claiming to know him while standing here.
“I apologize,” I responded, perplexed. “You knew my father?”
He answered, leaning against his patrol car as though he was deep in contemplation, “Yeah.” Prior to my transfer here, we were partners. One of the nice ones was your dad. Always willing to provide a hand and always assisting others. He even once saved my life.
I gave a startled shake of my head. “He didn’t bring you up.”
The cop gave a quiet laugh. “That sounds just like him.” He disliked discussing himself. However, I learned more from working with him than from any training.
I could sense the weight of the moment during the brief stillness. I felt as though I had entered a universe where the past wasn’t so far away after all.
“So why are we discussing this at this time?” Trying to figure things out, I finally inquired. “If it’s okay with you, may I ask?”
He let out a sigh, glanced down, and then gazed directly into my eyes. Because of your bike or anything else, I didn’t stop you. I recognized you and stopped you. You resemble your father exactly.
For a moment, I was at a loss for words. Even though I had heard that before, it felt heavier coming from someone who knew him well.
He looked at it and added, “I saw you pedaling along, struggling with that old bike.” And I thought, ‘That kid has a lot of willpower.’” like his father.
I got a lump in my throat. I wanted to ask more questions or thank him, but I couldn’t find the right words. I sat there, on my bike, feeling strangely at ease yet vulnerable at the same time.
A little later, the officer produced a small card from his pocket. He gave it to me. “Give me a call if you ever need anything, or even if you don’t. I won’t keep you out here for too long. Family is family, even though we have just recently met.
Family. Long after he got back in his car and drove off, leaving me alone on the side of the road, that word continued to reverberate in my head. Family. Hearing it from someone I hardly knew was odd, yet it also felt real in some way.
I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened the following morning. I looked over Officer Raymond Cruz’s business card, which the officer had given me, while I sipped my coffee. I couldn’t recall why, but his name sounded familiar. I considered texting him, maybe once I came up with anything to say, but not immediately.
Then an unforeseen event occurred. I was repairing a flat tire on my bike when I discovered a folded piece of paper hidden behind the seat. I initially believed it to be trash, but my curiosity won out. Upon opening it, I discovered a neatly handwritten note:
To whoever discovers this: Life is difficult, but it is worthwhile. You’ll find your way if you keep moving forward.
Who had left it was unknown, and there was no name. However, those remarks had a profound effect on me. Regardless of whether it was providence, coincidence, or pure luck, it offered me a glimmer of hope that I hadn’t had in a long time.
Inspired, I made the decision to get in touch. I gave Officer Cruz a call later that night. He picked up immediately, which surprised me.
“This is Ray,” he said in a rough yet amiable tone.
I said, “It’s me.” from the previous evening. The cyclist.
He uttered the words, “Ah, hey there!” with genuine joy. “How are things going?”
In the end, we spoke for about an hour. He told him anecdotes about my dad, including how they used to go to lunch together and how my dad would make fun of him for his awful jokes. Every tale gave me a better understanding of the man I sorely missed and brought to mind the traits I valued most about him, such as kindness, humor, and tenacity.
Ray volunteered to assist me fix my bike at the conclusion of the call. He jokingly said, “There’s no point riding around on that death trap.” “Besides, if your dad found out that I let you ride something like that, he would kill me.”
I chuckled and decided to see Ray that weekend at a nearby repair shop. He showed up on Saturday with tools, spare parts, and a friendly smile that made me feel comfortable. We discussed movies, music, and my dad while we worked on the bike.
Ray remarked, “Your dad believed in paying it forward,” as he tightened a bolt. I wanted you to know you’re not alone, which is why I stopped you.Long after the bike was mended, his comments continued to resonate with me. Riding home, I came to the realization that, if we’re willing, we can always find healing and connecting moments, even during difficult times.
A few months later, I began teaching children how to maintain their bikes as a volunteer at a community center. I had a sense of purpose that I hadn’t had since my father passed away. Ray was observing from the rear one afternoon. He came over and gave me a shoulder pat after the session.”You’re working well. Your father would be pleased.
My life was revolutionized by that fortuitous encounter. It served as a reminder that generosity can show up in unexpected ways. We are defined by our responses to the obstacles we face in life. We pay tribute to those who influenced us by making the decision to engage and give back.
Please share this tale if it speaks to you. A reminder that you are never alone, no matter how difficult things become, might be needed by someone out there.