I’ve got a Road ID, which, as you can see from the link, is a handy corpse-tag that goes around your wrist, helpful to paramedics and morgue workers to figure out what to do with what’s left of you after a motorist boo-boos you. It velcros fast and contains my name and contact numbers (and that I don’t have any allergic reactions). Nice to have.
Until it fell off – somewhere along Fridays’ ride in, it somehow came loose. Got to work, it wasn’t on my wrist. Backtracked to the loading dock, it wasn’t there. Got home and checked around the driveway and garage. Nada. Gone.
Saturday while I was off doing trains – link – a gent by the name of Marty called my brother. He’d found the tag. Mike gave him my address so it could be mailed back. When I got home, JB related all this to me.
I called the next day to thank Marty but could only leave a message. I was still hoping he’d mail it.
Today I biked home and found my Road ID wrapped around our front doorknob. The guy actually dropped it off, which was a very kind gesture.
I spend a lot of my riding time composing angry blogs about the boneheaded, self centered things that people try to inflict on me. Yet every so often, someone comes through with an act of gallantry.