You forgot something.
Today, my taxi directed me to a clinic on the far south side. There, I picked up a girl in her late teens and a young boy in his upper threes, maybe as old as four. I couldn't tell if she was just a young mother or maybe the boy's sister. They never said anything to give away their familial status.
As soon as the boy got in the taxi, he grabbed my bike helmet and said, "What's this?"
"That's my bike helmet," I replied as I started to drive.
"For your bike?"
"Yup."
"I thought it was for your driving," the boy said.
"No, my driving isn't that bad."
We talked about our bikes. I explained why bike helmets are important, so you don't break your head. We exchanged stories about times we got hurt on our bikes. This boy had fallen over once. I hit a tree on a ramp. We both had our bikes broken at one point. After the tree, I had to get a new bike, it was broken so bad. The boy said his mom was fixing his. He didn't know what was wrong with it.
We arrived at their apartment building and I said good-bye to my fellow bicycle enthusiast; I told him it was very nice to talk to him. His mom/sister/guardian didn't say a word the whole time, but I said good bye to her as well.
I watched them walk across the parking lot toward their front door. I turned, checked my mirrors and started to back up. Just as I started to move, I glanced back toward their apartment and the boy had run all the way back to the taxi and was saying something I couldn't hear through the glass. I rolled down my window. "What was that you said?"
"You forgot to high-five."
"Oh," I said as I reached my arm out the window toward him, palm out. He ran forward and gave me a high-five, a hard and solid smack. He said bye as he turned and ran back toward his apartment door, smiling. We waved good bye one last time as I drove away. It was nice to have a friend for a few minutes.
As soon as the boy got in the taxi, he grabbed my bike helmet and said, "What's this?"
"That's my bike helmet," I replied as I started to drive.
"For your bike?"
"Yup."
"I thought it was for your driving," the boy said.
"No, my driving isn't that bad."
We talked about our bikes. I explained why bike helmets are important, so you don't break your head. We exchanged stories about times we got hurt on our bikes. This boy had fallen over once. I hit a tree on a ramp. We both had our bikes broken at one point. After the tree, I had to get a new bike, it was broken so bad. The boy said his mom was fixing his. He didn't know what was wrong with it.
We arrived at their apartment building and I said good-bye to my fellow bicycle enthusiast; I told him it was very nice to talk to him. His mom/sister/guardian didn't say a word the whole time, but I said good bye to her as well.
I watched them walk across the parking lot toward their front door. I turned, checked my mirrors and started to back up. Just as I started to move, I glanced back toward their apartment and the boy had run all the way back to the taxi and was saying something I couldn't hear through the glass. I rolled down my window. "What was that you said?"
"You forgot to high-five."
"Oh," I said as I reached my arm out the window toward him, palm out. He ran forward and gave me a high-five, a hard and solid smack. He said bye as he turned and ran back toward his apartment door, smiling. We waved good bye one last time as I drove away. It was nice to have a friend for a few minutes.