I Was Just Curious
AS I PULLED INTO THE PARKING LOT at St. Arbucks on Saturday afternoon I was surprised to see someone parked in my usual gimp spot. I know that it’s not my spot, but I just think of it that way – because I have created a totally unjustified sense of entitlement about it.
What surprised me even more about this was that my gimp spot was taken up by a motorcycle – a motorcycle with a “disabled driver” license plate on it.
I have never seen anything like that before. I had no idea that such a thing existed. A teeny-tiny little wheelchair logo on the teeny-tiny motorcycle license plate.
That is a picture of the thing posted above.
I didn’t walk over and take a picture of the plate on the back because there were a bunch of other motorcycles parked in the lot and I didn’t want any of the boys to become upset and “Go Waco” on me.
A few minutes later all of the biker dudes started to leave and I was seriously tempted to go chat up the guy headed toward the bike in my gimp spot. He was big guy – motorcycle gang guy – big. All clothing must be custom made or purchased online from some place near San Quentin – big.
My vehicle was parked next to his in the adjoining, someone else’s gimp spot, so I thought that he might pick up that we had something in common beyond the both of us being carbon-based life forms.
I watched him open the storage space behind the seat and put in something small and wrapped in a towel. I started to think that perhaps, just perhaps, I shouldn’t intrude.
I mean, how do you walk up to a strange person, who has both tattoos and scar tissue, who has just stashed something he doesn’t want seen, who has on a leather vest that must have cost the lives of several cows, and say,
“What’s your problem that you are parked in my space?”
“I see you have a handicap license plate on your bike. Why, aside from the obvious, do you have it?”
“Hey, Sasquatch! Where did you steal the Gimp plate?”
You can see why I hesitated. I just couldn’t find the right words that would break the ice without also breaking my spine.
Now, I know that most disabilities are invisible. Most people with a disability aren’t walking around with artificial limbs or guide dogs. It was seeing the plate on a motorcycle that drew my attention. That and the fact that the guy riding it had a look on his face hinting that his disability might be that he wanted to eat the rest of humanity for lunch.
That would be speculation on my part. I’m not a doctor. I’m not even a good patient. My diagnostic skills are rustier than the chassis of a 1973 Volkswagen “Thing.”
Over the years I have learned, often The Hard Way, that my life is better if I just shut up. There is that old saying about “Curiosity Killed the Cat” and, since most cats are more agile and can outrun me, I have found it beneficial to adopt my own saying: “John, STFU.” I think it has saved my life on a number of occasions.
So, to admit having failed at making a long story short, the guy with the GimpCycle drove off into the mist, to join the other gorillas, and I drank my coffee and went to buy some Dr. Pepper at Kroger’s.
He followed the lure of the open road.
I followed the lure of Double Coupon Day.