There was this guy I’d never met, I’d see him riding his bicycle frequently. Always sitting up straight, head held high, looking straight ahead. Stately. Kingly. He was tall and thin, with a long grey beard and long grey dreadlocks. And the hat. I call them Jiffy Pop hats, like Jiffy Pop popcorn after it’s done popping. A hat like that with a bill.
I’d see this guy all the time, two or three times a week. I’d wave and he’d wave back, never turning his head to look at me, always looking straight ahead, riding his bike. I always wanted to stop and introduce myself, he seemed like such a cool dude. But I never did. I’m not cool like him, we’d have nothing in common. But I always figured maybe I would. Someday.
But I always waved when I saw him, and he always waved back.
I heard that night before last he got hit on his bicycle by motor vehicle and killed. And that hurts me bad. How dare some hot dogging motorcyclist kill such a noble, royal dude?
I wish I’d have stopped and met him when I had the chance.