Last Friday, Michael convinced me to go on a long bike ride out to eat tacos. Most of the ride was on a nice paved trail that wound through a wooded area. We passed a pond where I saw a beaver hut and a deer. We rode under overpasses filled with wonderful graffiti. I saw so many things I wanted to stop and photograph, but I didn’t because this was a bike a ride. If I’d been alone, I would have stopped a thousand times. Eventually we ran out of trail and had to take to the street, but the street wasn’t busy. The ride was easy and the tacos were delicious.

We hadn’t made it too far into our return trip, still on the street part of the journey. Michael was the leader; he has the gps and I didn’t really know this area. Every thing was fine until BAM! it wasn’t. Michael’s back tire exploded. It sounded like a gunshot. I had never witnessed such a thing. It was kind of spectacular. We stood on the side of the road debating about what to do next. Michael asked if I thought I could find my way home to get the truck and I was hesitant with my yes. I probably could have found my way home, but I wasn’t certain that would not happen without some wrong turns. We had stopped across from a small neighborhood and woman and her daughter came out to check on us. They had thought it was a gunshot and came out to make sure we were not hurt. Then the woman offered to drive me home and my first instinct was to say no because I don’t want to be bother. We were not close to home, but for once I set aside my internal ‘I don’t want to be a bother’ woman and took her up on the offer.

In our small talk during the drive, we discovered that both of us are from Oklahoma. She grew up in Miami and when I told her that I grew up in Collinsville, she said “Oh! I know people there!” Then we spent some time trying to figure out if we knew the same people. We shared life stories about cancer and catastrophes and at one point the woman said “I think I was destined to meet you.” When she pulled into my driveway, I offered her gas money and she flat out refused. I thanked her profusely as I hopped out of her car. Michael loaded the bicycles into his truck when I showed up to rescue him. As we started to drive off, we saw the woman again. I rolled down my window and waved so that she could see we were alright.

The inner tuber for Michael’s tire was replaced the next day and then exploded again while we were on a pre-dinner bike ride. This time we were right behind a shopping center that contained a sports bar and only three miles by street to our house (we’d travelled about seven via trails). Michael rode my bicycle home (like a bear on a bicycle) and left me at the sports bar. We dropped the bike off for repairs the next day and his whole back wheel has now been replaced. We went to lunch after dropping the bike off at a place that we’d never been to before. The food was not great and waiter was so weird and awkward. I met all of his strangeness with a smile and a nod and patience. Afterwards, Michael made a joke about about how kind I was to our weird waiter. I said “Kindness costs me nothing.”

I said this flippantly and when I really think about it, it is not entirely true. Kindness is a muscle that we must exercise. The more we use it, the easier it is to be kind until eventually you don’t even realize you’re making effort. The stranger who rescued us has trained so well that she didn’t ask “Can I give you a ride?” She said “I can give you a ride.” I want this level of kindness strength. I am not just grateful for the kindness of strangers, but for the reminder that kindness must be a daily practice.