Blessings dont always come wrapped in pretty packages

I grew up surrounded by old fashioned mountain survivalists, one or two bikers of the like you dont see very often these days, and just good ole, small town people in general. The kind of folk who enjoy a kind of freedom of spirit that everyone wishes for. People who value good morals. Trustworthy folk. It was a life that meant you worked hard, minded your own business. People were loyal to their friends, most were kind and generous, courteous and respectful, genuine, and, not the type you’d want mad at you. I once thought the whole world was like that, but as you know, its not.

I left those good people, and times behind too early. I wanted to grow up fast, get out of this small town and live, and I did. And my life changed. When I was 15 I had a baby girl.

When I got my license I decided to go to a Harley rally. I’d never been to one alone before and had always been under the impression that admission was free, but I was about to receive a rude awakening. I was nearly 17. I strode up to the entrance in my short cut-off blue jean shorts, belly shirt, knee high moccasins, and one year old perched neatly on my hip. One cute & clueless little country bumpkin biker child & baby; check. Pervy 30something gate keeper unashamedly gawks at me & asks for my $20 entrance fee. When I tell him I dont have it he rubs his chin and contemplates for a moment, “Well give me a tit shot, and I’ll let you in anyway.” How kind. And unfortunately, already having learned by that tender age what monsters men can be, I was only momentarily shocked, and I gave him instead a good look at my back side walking away. As I was going I felt an arm slip through mine. I turned around, ready to fight, and looked up into the face of a warmly smiling, older, red-headed, wooly booger of a man who simply says to me, “Come on, I’ll walk you in.” I’d noticed him standing by the gate, but never wouldve guessed he would be like one of the men I had adored in my childhood. As we approached the man who wanted the 'tit shot', my escort flared his nostrils and glared daringly at him. No words couldve been as effective as that look that clearly asked in its silence, “Do you want to say something now?” The previously bold man melted into a speechless stupor, and my companion and I passed through the gate, arms linked, no further confrontation necessary.

That was the just the beginning of one really great day. To make the story short, the gentleman who escorted me in was the president of a Biker club. My daughter and I were treated like VIPs all day. We went back stage and met the bands, we were fed and looked after and entertained greatly. At the end of the day this man gave me his number and asked me to keep in touch. He also offered me gas money, which I refused. Then he and his friends offered to follow us as far as they were going on our route home to make sure we made it back without any problems, and they did. These were the kind of people that I had known as a little girl.

That day I decided maybe I could start trusting people again, my already tired faith in humanity had been greatly restored. A beautiful soul is a real treasure, often well hidden beneath a burly, mean looking shell. Its an old lesson, but one worth repeating; its unwise to depend solely upon your eyes to guide you. And for heavens sake children, dont try to grow up so fast. Learning everything the hard way hurts.