Motorcycle Pilot

He was soft spoken and kind. When I asked him what was his favorite memory, he told me he was a “Motorcycle Pilot.” Confused I asked, “What’s a motorcycle pilot?” That was when he went into detail talking about the fun he had racing motorcycles. He talked about it with a passion that brought him to life, describing other people he raced with in his younger days. He then told me about the bikes he built from the ground up. As he talked my mind wandered… What if that passion were to return to him the way he is able to described every vivid detail to me.

His fault? He told me he can’t say no to anything. I took it as people have taken advantage of him over the years. I don’t know if that is true or not, but I could tell by the sound of his voice and the way he came across as being humble, that he would be the first to help someone in need.

His life today leaves him living in the back of an old pickup truck with a makeshift camper made out of wood and tarps covering the bed of the truck. He is 64-years old.

“The connection to place, to the land, the wind, the sun, stars, the moon... it sounds romantic, but it's true - the visceral experience of motion, of moving through time on some amazing machine - a few cars touch on it, but not too many compared to motorcycles. I always felt that any motorcycle journey was special.” - Antoine Predock

What is your purpose in life?

He was once a respiratory care nurse and said that he grew up during the hippie generation, but he was never a hippie. “I was into cars,” he told me, “I had a Mustang once, but my favorite was my Super Sport Camaro.”

As we talked he said that he is currently living in a motel. He is from Kentucky, but is stuck in Indiana after his daughters car broke down. “I don’t have enough money to get back, so I am staying here until I do,” he said. “My social security check should be here in a few days, once I get it I will head back to Kentucky,” he reassured me.

As I was about to walk away, the 61 year old stopped me. “Have you found yourself yet,” he asked with much curiosity. Confused I responded, “Have I found myself?” He looked at me and said, “Yea, I mean you – your purpose – you?” I paused, “I uh, I don’t know – I guess - - Have you?” He looked at me with curiosity, scrunched his nose and said, “I have not found myself yet, my purpose. I will let you know if I do.”

Tim Tebow stated, “Regardless of whatever I do, I know what my purpose is: to make a difference in people's lives.”

We are truly all friends

He was marching, dancing and walking up and down the sidewalk of Riverside Drive next to a small park along the banks of the Ohio River in Evansville, Indiana. His old school Sony Walkman cassette player was firmly held around his neck by a belt strap, the cassette door held shut with rubber bands. A church flyer with the word “Faith” on it was in his left breast pocket along with a handwritten note.

Motorist would drive by honking their horns and waiving at him. He would respond by waiving his American flag in his left hand and waiving his hand on the right. It was as if he were a fixture of Indiana and everyone looked forward to seeing him on their commute home.

As I approached I could see his smile grow from ear to ear. He was so excited to talk. He started talking to me before I was close enough to hear what he had to say.

Scattered on the ground before him were toy motorcycles, cars, newspapers, magazines and books… all neatly lined together. “What’s this,” I asked while pointing at a small toy car. “That’s my Ferrari, my brother gave it to me,” he said with a laugh. “What about this one,” I asked. “Oh, that’s my motorcycle – I used to ride, but now I ride a bike.”

As our conversation continued he stopped to think about his childhood. Pointing at the river he said, “One time when I was a kid, I swam in that river. It was a good thing I knew how to doggy paddle, because those currents got me.” He then told me that he is 66-years old and has always lived in the Evansville area, sometimes living on the Kentucky side of the river.

“I use to go to the Masonic Temple in Newburg. I then became a Jehovah Witness. I am now Muslim, but I go to all the churches, I like everybody, we are all friends,” he said with a smile.

American Author Bryant H. McGill once stated, "One of the most sincere forms of respect is actually listening to what another has to say." Some of the folks I have met, all I can do is sit and listen. I honestly don't know how to respond at times.

He was struck by a car while on his bicycle

“I was an Army brat growing up,” he said. When asked how he landed in Evansville, Indiana, he told me that he was living in a smaller city where he was involved in an accident.

Russell said, “I was riding my bike when I was hit by a car. The injuries were too bad to be treated there, so they flew me to the hospital here (Evansville, Indiana).” The 48-year old was flown to the Deaconess Hospital in Evansville.

After being treated and released from the Deaconess Hospital, he had no choice but to live on the streets of Indiana… homeless.

He does not have the funds to take a trip back home, so Indiana is where he will stay for the time being.

“In tragedy, it's hard to find a good resolution; it's not black and white: it's a big fog of gray.” - Paul Dano

I buried my best friend yesterday

“I was born in California,” he told me, but has lived in Evansville, Indiana his entire life. As we talked more, I realized he was placed into the foster care system at age 6. A woman in Indiana later adopted him.

“My mom (talking about his adopted mother), was like Aunt Bee on the Andy Griffith Show,” he said with a smile. As he continued to describe his parents he commented, “My dad (adopted father) was an Evangelist.” I could tell he was proud of the parents who raised him in life, but he was struggling. A string of bad choices mixed with a little bad luck landed him on the streets. Today he is 48-years old.

The conversation then took a downturn. “I buried my best friend yesterday,” he said while looking down. When I asked who died he said, “My mom. My dad died last year and my mom passed away this past week, she was 88.” He told me she was the best woman ever.

“No language can express the power, and beauty, and heroism, and majesty of a mother’s love. It shrinks not where man cowers, and grows stronger where man faints, and over wastes of worldly fortunes sends the radiance of its quenchless fidelity like a star.” - Edwin Hubbell Chapin