Sal Paradise
Hooligan
Note:I threw this together in a few minutes today,This is just a true story , something that happened just the other day, and I felt like putting it to "paper".
There is a “ bum” at an entrance ramp to the main bridge on my way to work. He is a veteran, judging by his DOD ID and his olive green fatigue jacket. This particular guy is a Vietnam era case, he has a worn out cardboard sign that reads “ Honk if you love Jesus” and another one that reads “ Vietnam Veteran will work for food”. Next to him is a shopping cart full of clothes and he has stringy hair and wild eyes. He makes sense about half the time, which might put him in the top 10% of people but that’s beside the point. He’s a guy who got lost, maybe lost his family, his home, his mind.
A side note: The “real” Sal Paradise saw bums as holy men. Kerouac opens his novel Dharma Bums with a chance meeting on a rail car with a tiny bum he called ‘The Bum of St Theresa” who repeats the same prayer over and over. Me, I’m just a fake; I was given the name by some friends. However, like the real Paradise, I do stop for “ bums”,(no disrespect, if you read the book, it’s a compliment). And I do give them money. I always have.
This particular “bum” seems to have PTSD. I stop every week in my car at least once, maybe twice and I give him a five and I ask him if he is okay and if I can do anything for him. I’ve tried to talk to him several times. His reply is usually a mumble of gibberish. I once asked him his name. More gibberish. I asked - Is that your Vetrans ID card? Yeah. Are you allright? I’m okay, bless you.
I should add the fact that 20,000 cars a day pass this guy. If we were a decent society, the guy wouldn’t be there. If just one car in every 1,000 gave him $5 he’d make $100 a day. As it is, I think he sleeps at a welfare motel down the street but I am not sure.
The other day I took the bike to work and when I saw the old veteran there with his sign, I pulled over out of habit.. Of course he didn’t recognize me . Bums get to recognizing you, especially if you are known to come up with a fiver now and then. They remember that real well. But this guy didn’t recognize me with my FF helmet. . He did recognize the bike however, and that made a huge difference. Now before I can get my wallet out, he asks about the bike. He had one he tells me, bought it new in 1969 when he got back from ‘Nam. He is staring at my bike like he is seeing a ghost,or an old friend back from the dead.
Here is where the story takes a bit of an ugly turn. All the while we are talking on the shoulder, traffic is creeping by 5 feet away. Cars are making their way onto the bridge approach and its rush hour, so they are barely moving. A brand new Accord with four young guys in it pulls close by and the windows roll down. I hear “ f--- you, you fraud!!! Then some other nasty comments and the F bomb multiple times and the word “drunk!! ” Just before they move on, one of the guys spits out the window at the old vet. I wish I could tell you I defended him, that I yelled at the young guy, or dragged him out of his window and made him beg the old man’s forgiveness , but I didn’t. I just stood there kind of shocked, but not too surprised. People are awful. Like I said, if 1 in 1,000 gave just a little bit, this guy would be home sleeping. Those jerks aren’t worthy to tie the old man’s boot lace and he probably deals with this kind of crap every day.
I looked back at the old man, but he didn't seem to notice the guys in the Honda. He was still staring at my bike and he just got more and more excited about the Bonneville. He had his wits about him completely at that instant . You never really know with street people if the craziness is an act or not. I still don’t know for sure but this guy talked about oil in frame ( disapproves) , Lucas ignitions,, and he definitely knew something about bikes. Again and again he said very clearly “I had a 69 Bonneville” and he just ate the bike up with his eyes, touched the headlight, looked at the tank badge. And then he broke out this big **** grin and he looked at me right in the eye, which is very unusual, and he sticks out his hand and he said “ Thank you so much” . He meant for showing him my bike. I asked him if I could buy him lunch and he said “ sure” and so I slipped him a few bucks, he said “Thanks Brother, God Bless, God Bless…” and I said thanks and I rode away.
The point here is not to blow my own horn, or to condemn the cruel hearted jerks in the Honda, or even to get you to contribute to “ bums” you may see - although that last thing would be a very good thing. No, many who read this give more, do more and sacrifice more than I do. The point for me was just the bike bringing us together, and for a minute all the awful in the world didn’t matter. What mattered was what we shared, what we had in common. We were just two guys looking at a motorcycle, on the side of the road and sharing a moment, and we didn't care about the selfish jerks in the world who think they are too good. It was a nice moment, which the old man no doubt appreciated, admiring a nice looking motorcycle. The Bonneville is an icon, its a part of history. I never needed to validate that this new Bonny is legit and genuine and I surely don’t now. It's been blessed anyway and that’s good enough for me.
There is a “ bum” at an entrance ramp to the main bridge on my way to work. He is a veteran, judging by his DOD ID and his olive green fatigue jacket. This particular guy is a Vietnam era case, he has a worn out cardboard sign that reads “ Honk if you love Jesus” and another one that reads “ Vietnam Veteran will work for food”. Next to him is a shopping cart full of clothes and he has stringy hair and wild eyes. He makes sense about half the time, which might put him in the top 10% of people but that’s beside the point. He’s a guy who got lost, maybe lost his family, his home, his mind.
A side note: The “real” Sal Paradise saw bums as holy men. Kerouac opens his novel Dharma Bums with a chance meeting on a rail car with a tiny bum he called ‘The Bum of St Theresa” who repeats the same prayer over and over. Me, I’m just a fake; I was given the name by some friends. However, like the real Paradise, I do stop for “ bums”,(no disrespect, if you read the book, it’s a compliment). And I do give them money. I always have.
This particular “bum” seems to have PTSD. I stop every week in my car at least once, maybe twice and I give him a five and I ask him if he is okay and if I can do anything for him. I’ve tried to talk to him several times. His reply is usually a mumble of gibberish. I once asked him his name. More gibberish. I asked - Is that your Vetrans ID card? Yeah. Are you allright? I’m okay, bless you.
I should add the fact that 20,000 cars a day pass this guy. If we were a decent society, the guy wouldn’t be there. If just one car in every 1,000 gave him $5 he’d make $100 a day. As it is, I think he sleeps at a welfare motel down the street but I am not sure.
The other day I took the bike to work and when I saw the old veteran there with his sign, I pulled over out of habit.. Of course he didn’t recognize me . Bums get to recognizing you, especially if you are known to come up with a fiver now and then. They remember that real well. But this guy didn’t recognize me with my FF helmet. . He did recognize the bike however, and that made a huge difference. Now before I can get my wallet out, he asks about the bike. He had one he tells me, bought it new in 1969 when he got back from ‘Nam. He is staring at my bike like he is seeing a ghost,or an old friend back from the dead.
Here is where the story takes a bit of an ugly turn. All the while we are talking on the shoulder, traffic is creeping by 5 feet away. Cars are making their way onto the bridge approach and its rush hour, so they are barely moving. A brand new Accord with four young guys in it pulls close by and the windows roll down. I hear “ f--- you, you fraud!!! Then some other nasty comments and the F bomb multiple times and the word “drunk!! ” Just before they move on, one of the guys spits out the window at the old vet. I wish I could tell you I defended him, that I yelled at the young guy, or dragged him out of his window and made him beg the old man’s forgiveness , but I didn’t. I just stood there kind of shocked, but not too surprised. People are awful. Like I said, if 1 in 1,000 gave just a little bit, this guy would be home sleeping. Those jerks aren’t worthy to tie the old man’s boot lace and he probably deals with this kind of crap every day.
I looked back at the old man, but he didn't seem to notice the guys in the Honda. He was still staring at my bike and he just got more and more excited about the Bonneville. He had his wits about him completely at that instant . You never really know with street people if the craziness is an act or not. I still don’t know for sure but this guy talked about oil in frame ( disapproves) , Lucas ignitions,, and he definitely knew something about bikes. Again and again he said very clearly “I had a 69 Bonneville” and he just ate the bike up with his eyes, touched the headlight, looked at the tank badge. And then he broke out this big **** grin and he looked at me right in the eye, which is very unusual, and he sticks out his hand and he said “ Thank you so much” . He meant for showing him my bike. I asked him if I could buy him lunch and he said “ sure” and so I slipped him a few bucks, he said “Thanks Brother, God Bless, God Bless…” and I said thanks and I rode away.
The point here is not to blow my own horn, or to condemn the cruel hearted jerks in the Honda, or even to get you to contribute to “ bums” you may see - although that last thing would be a very good thing. No, many who read this give more, do more and sacrifice more than I do. The point for me was just the bike bringing us together, and for a minute all the awful in the world didn’t matter. What mattered was what we shared, what we had in common. We were just two guys looking at a motorcycle, on the side of the road and sharing a moment, and we didn't care about the selfish jerks in the world who think they are too good. It was a nice moment, which the old man no doubt appreciated, admiring a nice looking motorcycle. The Bonneville is an icon, its a part of history. I never needed to validate that this new Bonny is legit and genuine and I surely don’t now. It's been blessed anyway and that’s good enough for me.
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