Another Tribute

As I think I've said before, during the course of my week, I peruse several newspapers.  One of them is the San Luis Obispo Tribune.

I still have friends out there on the Central Coast, and I follow as best I can the comings and goings.  It takes me back.

When I had just started my tenure out there in Arroyo Grande, I had a series of financial setbacks that caused me to re-arrange my life a little; tighten the belt, and give up some of the those creature comforts that I had come to rely upon in favor of other, cost efficient comforts.

One of them was my car. 

Yeah, to tell the whole truth, it wasn't my idea to give it up.  A couple of strapping fellow came in the dark of the night while I was working and towed it right out of the parking lot.  And I had not the ransom to free it from its prison, so I bid it goodbye.

Now, as some of you know, I'm a walker.  I am not adverse to walking long distances, and often, in my tenure at the Melodrama Theatre in California, I would walk the three or four miles from our home to the theatre...but the loss of my car pre-dates my dating, engagement and marriage.

And I lived further out of town.
About six more miles out of town.
So, I procured a bike.

It was an old ten speed bicycle, with no bells or whistles...and although I didn't know it at the time, it was in need of some maintenance.  A LOT of maintenance.  The gears needed to be looked at, the brakes, and the tires.  The only thing really working on the thing was the seat.

And that's when I met Ira Hughes.  He owned the bike shop in Arroyo Grande.  It was a little cabin-like thing, stuffed full of new bikes in the front, and repairs in the back.  He was a nice fellow with an easy going manner and a disarming smile.  He didn't seem the least put off by my long hair and beard; I think it actually encouraged the warm manner and disarming smile.

I told him what I needed.  I told him I needed a new bike, but I had to make due with the POS I currently had.  He looked at it, told me what I needed and told me to come back two days following.  He asked for my name (but only the first name, strangely), and didn't ask for money, and then, to my surprise, asked me if I needed a loaner.

I looked over at the Penny-Farthing he had sitting out front, and inquired about it.  He told me he only rode that in parades.  And he DID.  With the Straw Boater on his head and a garters on his arms...

Two days later, I showed up; he had cleaned it up, adjusted the brakes, replaced both tires and fixed the gear shifter.  And he charged me fifteen dollars.

It was like he took the thorn out of my paw; we were friends for life.

I eventually got back on financial track (although it was five years before I actually owned a car again), but I saw him frequently about town...he'd occasionally come into the ice cream shop (which was right across the street, more or less), and of course, I'd see him at parades.  When I moved away from the coast to join the land of the Northern State, I gave the bicycle to one of the actors that replaced me at the Melodrama Theatre, and I hope it served him well...and if he needed anything, to go see Ira.

Well, I was reading the Tribune this morning, and Ira got sick about seven months ago; what seemed like the flu was something far worse, and that good guy faded away with family and friends all around at his home last week.

Yes, you could say that I barely knew him; but a good man deserves to be eulogized.  So, thanks for the helping hand when I needed it, Ira. 

I payed it forward.