Words from an old warrior

Shielded from the sun's rays under the cool shade of a palm tree, the old man sits in his chair and watches the wheels go round and round.

He stretches out his weathered hand and waves at each of the cyclists as they pass. He gets wide smiles and nods in return before they kick up the pace again.

As they head down the street, he clasps his hands together before they fall to his lap. From this spot across from the California Veterans Home building in Yountville, he can see the bike riders pull into a nearby dirt lot and invade the tables of cookies, hard boiled eggs, water and bananas. They'll say the layout is like a gourmet meal when you're looking to ride 25 and even 50 miles in this mounting heat.

The man adjusts his blue baseball hat.

"I loved riding bikes when I was a boy," he said. "Oh, me and my neighbors would ride everywhere, to the store, to school. We loved it. Felt free."

If anyone knew anything about fredom, it was surely this San Francisco man, who served in the United States Air Force working on planes during World War II. I glanced at his cap that bore the WW II patch and was reminded how my dad always wore his hat with pride. Around his wrist was a black bracelet with silver enscriptions and the P.O.W. logo.

"We were kept busy, always on the go. I loved it. Didn't like that we were at war, but getting my hands dirty was good," he smiled.

I can't help but smile back. He's easy to speak with, this veteran. Comfortable in talking about his experience, though definitely not held captive by it. He's someone who had served his country and that was it. That was enough.

I don't ask how he ended up in the motorized wheelchair he sits in, an American flag hanging from a long stick attached to the back of his seat. It doesn't matter, really. Besides, I'm only 10 miles into this ride and I've got a long way to go. It was time to mount up, though I could have stayed and talked with him longer. I shake his hand, thank him for his time and walk back to the dirt lot, stopping for one more egg and a swig of cold water.

I throw my feet into the pedals, feeling good in knowing this charity ride will benefit the veterans hospital and provide our heroes with needed services, as well as help the Enchanted Hills Camp For The Blind and Visually Impaired.

It's the least I can do, really. I wonder if he realizes how he helped make my ride today. Maybe, I brightened his too in some way.

I get my answer. When I pass by him, he tugs at his cap, nods, smiles.

And he waves.