Day 51

Holy crap, I was in a funk today. It started with the story of Jim, a man I met at the grocery store. He was in a wheelchair and had a killer handlebar mustache. I told him I'd considered wearing that kind of 'stache and asked him how the upkeep was. He told me it wasn't bad, which is bad news for my wife. She's not keen on awesome facial hair. He told me his son wears the same kind of mustache. He then told me that he and his son were bikers. At least, his son is a biker. Jim can't ride anymore. He was diagnosed with emphysema and had to sell his bike a few months back. He told me how sad he was when he heard bikes driving by his house and how much he missed that freedom. This story's sad, but the look on his face was what killed me. He kept eye contact with me until he talked about his nostalgia. At that moment he looked into the distance like someone would look at a friend going off to war. The loss in his face was awful to see. Jim's a big guy. He had Harley gear on. I mentioned the mustache, right? However, in that moment he could've been a 90 lb middle schooler losing his first girlfriend. I'm not describing this well. Just trust me that recalling his expression is touching me even now. I'm not exactly sure why this story made me so sad. I really don't. I need to meet someone with a happy story tomorrow. Maybe that'll pick me up.