Written after a fatal accident in which a Biker was killed
THERE IS A VALUABLE LESSON IN THIS STORY FROM LYNDAL
The words are not mine, but I have always found it most poignant
I saw you hug your purse closer to you in the grocery store line. But you didn't see me pay the grocery bill of the elderly couple in front of me. I saw you pull your child closer when we passed each other on the sidewalk. But you didn't see me, at the local Shopping Centre, allow a young boy to sit on my bike and rev her up, after his father asked if I would mind because his son just loved Motorbikes.
I saw you change your mind about going into the restaurant when you saw my bike parked out front. But you didn't see me attending a meeting to raise more money for the hurricane relief. I saw you roll up your window and shake your head when I rode by. But you didn't see me riding behind you when you flicked your cigarette butt out the car window which hit me in the face.
I saw you frown at me when I smiled at your children. But you didn't see me, when I took time off from work to run toys to the homeless. I saw you stare at my shaved head and I saw you roll your eyes at my Leather jacket, vest, badges and gloves. But you didn't see me and my brothers donate our old ones to those that had none. I saw you look in fright at my tattoos. But you didn't see me cry as my children were born or have their name written over and in my heart.
I saw you change lanes while rushing off to go somewhere. But you didn't see me going home to be with my family. I saw you complain about how loud and noisy my bike can be. But you didn't see me when you were talking on you mobile and drifted into my lane. I saw you yelling at your kids in the car. But you didn't see me pat my child's hands knowing she was safe behind me. I saw you fiddling with your CD player as you drove down the road. But you didn't see me squeeze my daughters' leg when she told me to take the next turn. I saw you race down the road in the rain. But you didn't see me get soaked to the skin so my daughter could have the car to go to an appointment.
I saw you run the yellow light just to save a few minutes of time.
But you didn't see me trying to turn right. I saw you cut me off because you needed to be in the lane I was in.
But you didn't see me leave the road. I saw you, waiting impatiently for my friends to pass.
But you didn't see me. I wasn't there. I saw you go home to your family.
But you didn't see me.
Because I died that day you cut me off. I was just a biker.
A person with friends and a family.
But you didn't see me.
By Anon
I saw you change your mind about going into the restaurant when you saw my bike parked out front. But you didn't see me attending a meeting to raise more money for the hurricane relief. I saw you roll up your window and shake your head when I rode by. But you didn't see me riding behind you when you flicked your cigarette butt out the car window which hit me in the face.
I saw you frown at me when I smiled at your children. But you didn't see me, when I took time off from work to run toys to the homeless. I saw you stare at my shaved head and I saw you roll your eyes at my Leather jacket, vest, badges and gloves. But you didn't see me and my brothers donate our old ones to those that had none. I saw you look in fright at my tattoos. But you didn't see me cry as my children were born or have their name written over and in my heart.
I saw you change lanes while rushing off to go somewhere. But you didn't see me going home to be with my family. I saw you complain about how loud and noisy my bike can be. But you didn't see me when you were talking on you mobile and drifted into my lane. I saw you yelling at your kids in the car. But you didn't see me pat my child's hands knowing she was safe behind me. I saw you fiddling with your CD player as you drove down the road. But you didn't see me squeeze my daughters' leg when she told me to take the next turn. I saw you race down the road in the rain. But you didn't see me get soaked to the skin so my daughter could have the car to go to an appointment.
I saw you run the yellow light just to save a few minutes of time.
But you didn't see me trying to turn right. I saw you cut me off because you needed to be in the lane I was in.
But you didn't see me leave the road. I saw you, waiting impatiently for my friends to pass.
But you didn't see me. I wasn't there. I saw you go home to your family.
But you didn't see me.
Because I died that day you cut me off. I was just a biker.
A person with friends and a family.
But you didn't see me.
By Anon