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And then you meet a hero...
I met Jay at Washington Harbor on the weekend. That was 6 years ago. He rolled up on his beater 10 speed with his long hair and his kooky look. He struck me as one of those, "life of bike" guys. He looked like what I imagined a California hippy might look like. We talked about mega miles in the saddle, his mega miles. We talked about scrounging parts. As couriers in the work week we had never spoken, never even nodded, but we recognized each other from the 2 second shutter click between cars and that was reason enough to start a conversation. I put some mega miles onto my car as I Jack Kerouac'ed around the country, and years later I was sitting on the bench next to Jay at Dupont. He was a racer guy now. People glowed when they spoke of him, nothing specific, just that he was an inspiration. He said he'd been in a bad accident, it put his racing career on hold. Jay doesn't mince words, he only says as much as is necessary I had no idea. Jay was shooting for the pro's. He had a good chance, was having a killer season. He was in the break-away pack in Mississippi, 7 of the best riders in the country. Jay was focused, Jay had worked hard for this moment. Jay knew his mission, he didn't have a lot of years to goof off, he is all business. That day in Mississippi, Jay was 35. Already arguments were erupting with the sponsor, his teammates were lobbying on his behalf. "Don't take away his chance at the pros by putting him in Masters." Masters being the old guy league. "Jay has a chance to get there, don't hold him back, how can you do it when he's almost there, who cares how old he is." There was a car. Noone had time to warn anybody else. Most of the breakaway riders barely made it around the car. Jay didn't. In an instant, Jay was back at ground zero and fighting for his life. A bystander saved his life by tying a tourniquet around his leg, preventing him from bleeding to death. Everyone on the team was devasted with Jay's loss. Jay has a big ugly scar on his leg now. It took a year of recuperation, but Jay was getting back on the bike. It was all tentative, he was weak and still recovering, but he was giving his everything. You can see all the messengers at Dupont from time to time. We fly there to roost, check on things, catch up, it's the calm of the maelstrom which is the life of a courier. All the members of the team were messengers. Racing was a connection, messing, the initial bond. 4 couriers from the team went to visit Jay during his recovery in New Jersey. He couldn't be in Dupont, so they went to him. Every veteran courier has seen or heard of friends maimed or killed on the street, they had to make sure Jay was alright. Sheba beams with pride when she tells of that bike ride they did with Jay in New Jersey. "It was so powerful to see him on his bike, training again, it was truly an inspiration." I could see the goosebumps on her arms despite the 90 degrees in my kitchen. "Jay's a hero." Jay is one of those quiet guys. He smiles, he cracks quiet jokes, he laughs at your jokes. He may not be the center of attention, but he is certainly missed when he is not around. Jay would never think to brag. If you only talked to Jay about Jay you'd never have any idea what a great man he is because he'd never tell you.   |