The Invisible Child

We were midway through a two-week motorcycle tour of Rocky Mountain high country.  It was the end of a beautiful day, and we were enjoying dinner on the back patio of a restaurant while watching the sun sink behind the jagged mountains. The quiet, so relaxing after a long day in the saddle, was marred only by the sounds of a small boy playing around a fountain on the patio. "What a cute little guy," Cheryl said. "Cute, but annoying," I replied, wishing he'd sit down and shut up. "He's just desperate," she said in a voice tinged with sympathy. "Desperate for what?" I demanded. "Attention."

Sipping my coffee, I watched him run around for a few minutes and realized Cheryl was right. There were four adults and several teenagers grouped around a table.  The adults were talking of things adultish, and the teens were wrapped up in their own concerns.  The little boy was all-alone, closed out of both worlds.  He might as well have been invisible.
The boy soon tired of watching the spray of water dancing from the fountain and took up a position near the table.  He looked from face to face for recognition, but everyone was too busy to notice. "Watch," said Cheryl.  "He'll do something bad soon."

Even as she spoke, the little boy stepped down hard on his mother's shoe.  She gently told him not to do that.  It was the reaction of someone used to small children.  Her voice was patient rather than angry.

The boy resumed running in circles around the patio.  As he passed our table, I waved.  My gesture obviously took him by surprise, because he ran and hid behind his father.  I guess our leather jackets and boots, and the helmets on the chairs next to us, were a bit intimidating.

I waved again, and this time I was rewarded with a tentative smile and a wave in return. 
We paid our bill and were getting up to go when we noticed that the group at the other table was leaving too.  We filed out of the restaurant together, with the boy leading the way. 

As we got to the street, he looked my way and I said, "Hi.  How are you?" "OK," he replied shyly. "Would you like to see our motorcycle?" I inquired.  "Yeah!" he said, beaming. "Ask your mom if it's all right." The boy dutifully asked his mother for permission. 
She and the father nodded, and we all walked over to where the Harley was parked under a street lamp. Our new friend bounded ahead excitedly and stood next to the bike.  It towered over him. "Wow," he said, "it sure is big!" "Want to sit on it?" I asked. "Yeah!"
Again he looked to Mom for permission.  Again, she nodded and I lifted him onto the seat.  He stretched forward as far as he could, and was just able to reach the handgrips.  Immediately, he immersed himself in a make-believe ride, complete with sound effects.  I stood close by to make sure he didn't slip.  After a while, I lifted him off the bike and gave him a little hug.  Then he ran back to his family.  His mom leaned down and whispered in his ear, and he immediately turned toward us with a big smile on his face.  "Thank you," he said. 

As they walked away, we noticed he was no longer invisible to the rest of the family.  In fact, he had become the center of attention.

Keep the rubber side down, the shiny side up, and Ride On!

Frank Del Monte is the author of Motorcycle Arizona!, a biker’s guide to our great state of Arizona, available through bookstores and Amazon.com. He also owns, a Motorcycle Electrical Systems Repair Shop in Phoenix.
 
Arizona Motorcycle Electrics, Inc.
602-647-2965 1429 E. Griswold Rd.  Phx.
AzGetWired.com