Bicycle

NextDoor is a neighborhood on-line site where people post thoughts, situations, conditions, questions, and photos of interesting/odd creatures and landscapes. One day, I read a posting by a woman who wrote she needed transportation to get to work. No bus came close enough and she couldn’t afford a car. 

I read the announcement and thought: it’s early May, the weather is warm enough to ride a bike and I have two in my garage. I responded to her posting: I have a bike in good condition but it needs a tune-up. If someone can pick it up and bring it to you, you’re welcome to have it. I had no idea what would happen but it felt good to offer. After my posting I left to do errands.

When I came home, I discovered that another woman, who also read the posting, had responded to mine. She was willing to pick up my bicycle if I was willing to give her my contact information. Neither of us knew each other. Neither of us knew the person needing transportation. And yet, the woman who offered to pick up my bike contacted me, asking for directions to my house. A bit worried about putting my email address on a public site, I messaged her privately, hoping she was who she said she was. We ended up exchanging phone numbers and then my address. 

When she arrived, she grinned and said, “I’m here for your bike.” The two of us carried the bike from my garage and managed to lift it into the back of her SUV. I felt pleased there were now two of us doing what we could to help the woman. 

When my bike was in her car, she told me a man had posted a note offering to help with the tune-up. He had also agreed to pick the bike up from her place if she would give him her address. She said that given the way we exchanged our contact information, she felt okay about telling him where she lived. Now there were three of us helping a woman none of us knew, feeling good about our collective effort.

A fourth person responded to the “tune-up” man’s posting saying he’d be happy to provide and pay for any parts needing to be bought.

The postings continued. The “tune-up” man contacted the man willing to provide and pay for what needed to be fixed. This man, a committed cyclist, not only brought the necessary parts, he also provided assistance with the repairs, a helmet and riding gloves. The four of us felt like a community, helping a person we didn’t know and would probably never meet. Each effort on the part of the volunteers left me feeling better about the state of the world, or at least some of the people in the neighborhood.

A week later, a photo appeared of the woman on her “new” bike, wearing a helmet, with gloved hands on the handlebars, a lovely smile on her face, thanking everyone who made it possible for her to have reliable transportation to her work.

None of us knew the woman. None of us knew each other. And yet, by posting her situation on NextDoor, four strangers responded, collectively working to resolve her dilemma, each of us doing what we could to help.

What would it take for you to help someone you didn’t know? 

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