As I quietly coasted up to a stoplight, the 40-something woman stopped and turned as her mini-bulldog to me into his sights. My initial thought was that he was high-strung and alert because of the sounds of traffic. As I idled and looked him in the dog’s eyes, I realized I was his only focus.
I sat, watching without emotions. In the mix of sounds of even traffic, my bike was quiet. As we waited, the teeth started to appear. It was hard to hear through my helmet. By the light turned green his silence had turned into clear and audible barking. With my slow departure, he lunged, barking and biting in my direction. Anger and fear were limited by the length of his leash and the strength on the person on the other end.
In contrast, there were two boys at different ends of the spectrum. Although the motorcycle is quiet, it involved two different reactions. The first was fear. Even from 10 plus yards away, it was easy to see how frightened the young boy was. I had no idea what I could do to help. I was as quiet as I could be. I was slow and steady. I was even dressed in light colors and my helmet was white. It was as if he had heard the psalmist and believed it was speaking of this moment; “They take out anyone who gets in their way; if they can’t use them, they kill them.” (Psalm 94.6)
As discouraged as I was, the last boy left me with hope. With his hand securely in another’s hand, he turned as he heard the bike coming up from where he had been. He wanted to see! His bright smile, big eyes, and fist pump told me everything. He loved the sight of the bike! He wanted one of his own. Even at his age, it was time to ride! The best I could do was to give him a thumbs up and think, someday.
