Cruising Into The Future

One of the most meaningful things I do with my free time is mentoring a young teenager named Matthew. Mentoring is an incredibly rewarding experience. I highly recommend it! It's a great way to personally grow and give back to your community. I wrote an essay recently about what I've learned from my mentee. Mentors can be students too...

When it comes to the mentoring experience, it’s fertile ground for life lessons and building character. The challenges give way to constructing patience, creativity, communication skills, and empathy. The rewards are all of the fruits that come with caring intentionally, and sometimes intensely, about someone else – someone you can teach, relate to, learn from, share with, and ultimately influence in a positive way. Keep that word in mind: Influence.

I recall a time with Matthew when I was helping him with a math assignment. He had been really struggling with the material for a while and we had been working on the subject for months. Usually, I’ll help him when he gets stuck and use that opportunity to teach. It’s easy to sometimes get discouraged and frustrated when understanding is achieved at a slower pace. It’s customary that whenever Matthew understands what I’ve explained to him, I ask him for a high five to celebrate. It’s my simple way of trying to stay positive and motivated. This time, however, was the moment of truth, a test. Matthew was going to take a test on the material he had recently learned without my help. He had to figure out the problems on his own. I watched as he started working on the first problem. I was able to observe him thinking, struggling, remembering, and calculating. After finishing the first problem, he asked me to check it. I said, “Matt, you have to finish the whole test first.” He replied, “I need to know!” I checked his work and he got the correct answer. At that moment, his eyes lit up, he smiled and threw his hands in the air and said, “High five!” It was the first time he initiated the high five.

I think this story highlights what I’ve learned from Matthew so far. Sometimes, all it takes is a math problem and a high five moment to fully realize the importance of this special relationship. When our hands collided, I saw empowerment in Matthew’s eyes. He believed in himself. He knew he was smart. He finished the test, making significant progress, and knew that he could do better. Matthew has taught me that teaching is more than just instruction, that relationship matters, and that encouragement goes a long way. I’ve learned that the most powerful tools are trust and authenticity and that, using these tools, Matthew influences me as well! He encourages me, empowers me, challenges me, laughs at me, listens to me, sometimes corrects me, and always inspires me. I’ve learned from my mentee that I can always do better, and I’m grateful to him for helping me grow. Positive influence goes both ways.

Motorcycle Diaries - Cook's Corner

I was on the 22 freeway heading east towards Topanga Canyon. The cool wind was creeping through the open vents on my helmet and I could taste the sense of freedom that comes from riding without having somewhere to be. There’s a rush that comes from having your life so tangibly in your hands, where safety and harm meet and dance with the clutch and throttle.

Carpool lane. Clutch in. Shift up. Accelerate. Faster. Curve up ahead. Press right. Lean right. Nice, that felt good. There’s the mountain I’ll be riding up ahead, man it looks awesome. Oh shit! Traffic! Alright Alberto, downshift. Slow down. Stand-still up ahead. Split the lane. Friction zone. Watch for turn signals. Watch for assholes who don’t use their turn signals. Alright, contingency plan – What will you do if a car doesn’t see you and cuts in front of you to switch lanes? Hmmm…I’ll ram my bike into him, do a front flip onto the hood of his car, punch through the windshield and slap him for being an idiot! Does that work? Eh, probably not…Oh hey look! Traffic is letting up. Is this my exit? Chapman. Yea that’s it. Here we go!

After exiting the freeway, I was on the path leading up to Santiago Canyon Road. It was my first time doing this ride so I planned on soaking it all in. Before entering the canyon, I encountered a small crew of bikers – there were three of them. All three were wearing sports gear with GoPro cameras on their helmets and riding crotch rockets. Their high-rev engines sounded both awesome and intimidating. I rolled up next to one of them at a red light. The guy next to me pulled his visor up and asked me if I was going to the canyon. I said yes, and then he introduced himself and we talked – yelled for a bit over the roaring engines. Through his helmet I could see wrinkles on his face; this guy was in his forties at the youngest! All three of them were older. The light turned green and he looked at me and said, “Keep the rubber on the ground.” Then, while I blinked, he was gone. I looked forward to see him popping a wheelie through the intersection. I’m not going to lie, I was impressed. The kid inside of me thought, “Man, I want to pop a wheelie one day!” But the mature adult side of me thought, “Hopefully you’re not popping wheelies on a crotch rocket at age forty.”

I continued into the canyon and it was exhilarating. The sun was high enough to light the way but low enough to be behind me. It was the perfect amount of danger for my first ride on a canyon road. I got to practice cornering with large sweeping turns and was rewarded with a spectacular view at the end.

I stopped at a small biker bar on the corner of a random intersection. Harleys were parked out front and I parked my small Suzie in between two large ones. I walked into Cook’s Corner. It was a small dive bar, pretty empty, with peanut shells all across the floor. I went over to the bar and sat next to this guy that must have weighed close to 400 pounds. He was huge! He had a double shot of Jack in one hand, and a beer in the other. I asked the bartender about food and he pointed to the kitchen where I had to go place an order. I ordered a bacon cheeseburger with avocado, because here in California, we put avocado on everything. I returned to the bar and ordered a Stone IPA from the bartender. He had few words as he served it to me foaming over the brim.

I ate my burger (delicious!) and conversed with the individual next to me. He used to be in the army, and now he works at a hospital in LA – we were far from LA. He rides a 1500 CC Harley built for a big man. He asked me how long I had been riding. I told him that I just started in January. He then proceeded to tell me stories of him and his buddies going out for rides and the crashes he’s seen. He pulled out his phone and showed my pictures of a crash from his buddy who took a turn too fast and spilled on the low side. He ended up about thirty feet down the mountain with some broken ribs and a messed up bike. Apparently the crash happened two weeks ago, and his buddy is back on a bike riding again. Can’t get rid of the bug.

Another guy walked over because he overheard our conversation. He was skinny with gritty teeth and an incredibly long beard. His beard was probably bigger than my torso. He joined in, swapping horror stories and ragging on what his buddies did wrong to crash. The bartender stood there, with his hair covered by a bandana, wiping a glass clean. He shared some stories too. Is this customary at biker bars, to sit and talk about horror stories of your buddies crashing? If so, I need to find me a biker gang with people willing to spill on the road and give me juicy “he’s lucky he’s not dead” stories.

I’m halfway through my burger and I start to get to know the guy next to me. He looked hard, but he really wasn’t. I asked him what he was doing out there randomly on a Monday evening. The joint was empty. He stared at his empty double shot Jack Daniels glass and said, “I just got off of work and I didn’t want to go home. You?” I responded, “Mondays suck if you go home right after work.” He cracked a smile and it was this obvious recognition of a deep sadness that we were both there to try and stop thinking about. It was an unspoken solidarity. I bought him a beer, and at that precise moment, we weren’t alone. Being alone is best experienced on the open road.

The guy left after returning the favor and buying me a beer. I was sitting there finishing my burger and I realized…my life is totally like a movie right now! This scene is so classic! I chuckled at the thought of films actually being drawn from real life, although, it does make sense. Clearly I’m not the only one who’s ever randomly gone on a motorcycle ride for the sake of freedom and stopped at a dive bar for the sake of beer. I thought to myself, “If I were directing this film, how would this scene end?” A smile came across my face as I got to dictate what happened next.

I finished my burger, and my beer, and I tipped the bartender for both service and company. I grabbed my jacket in one hand and my helmet in the other. I slowly made my way to the front door of the bar, looking around to make sure I could remember the place. Then, with authority, I kicked the front door open with my head held high and hope in my eyes. There was a guy outside smoking a pipe through the small opening between his overpowering mustache and beard. He looked at me and asked, “Where you headed?”

I turned on my bike, put my jacket on, and right before putting on my helmet, I looked back at him with a new-found sense of determination and said, “I’m going home.”