06/20/2025
MY KIDS SAW A MAN RIDING MY OLD BIKE—AND WHAT HE DID NEXT LEFT ME SPEECHLESS
I sold the bike two weeks after the funeral.
Didn’t even wait a month. Couldn’t stand to look at it. Every inch of chrome reminded me of her arms wrapped around me, her laugh in my ear, her pink helmet she insisted on wearing even though it clashed with everything. Riding was our thing. And once she was gone, it felt wrong to do it alone. It felt dangerous. I couldn’t risk something happening to me too, leaving my kids alone.
I told myself it was just a machine. Letting it go was moving on.
But that lie never sat right—not with me, and not with the kids.
They never said much, just watched quietly every time I passed that empty spot in the garage. Until yesterday.
They came running inside, shouting over each other, faces flushed like they’d just seen a ghost.
“Dad! There’s a man on your bike!”
“At the end of the street! It’s yours! The black one with the flame on the side—you painted that flame!”
I stepped onto the porch just in time to see him cruise past slow—like he was sightseeing. And yeah… it was mine. No mistaking it.
“Looks like it’s in good hands,” I said with half a smile, and walked back inside.
But this morning, just after breakfast, I heard the rumble.
I walked outside… and there he was. The guy from yesterday. Sitting on the bike at the curb. Helmet off. Smiling.
He waved me over and said, “They told me everything. I think maybe this will help.”
Then he pulled something from his pocket—
(continue reading in the first cᴑmment)
