Yesterday morning I was walking back from the beach, up the cliffside zigzag, after a sunny run, swim and friend surprise (👋), when I heard the shuddering skid of something wheeled and weighted right behind me.
An electric tricycle.
The young driver wrestled the heavy vehicle into a right angle turn and pointed himself up the zigzag (No Cycling).
‘I nearly missed it,’ he said, before whirring the engine, pumping the pedals and overtaking me at a crawl.
Rather than giving in to some kind of nimby-level irritation at the interruption to our pedestrian slowway, I inspected his vehicle.
(In fairness, the painted No Cycling warning was covered in sand and may well, in any case, be insupportable under law — see here for the fascinating difference between cycling on a footpath and a footway.)
The tricycle was a scuffed red, with a wire basket fixed behind and a black electric motor strapped to the basket. Also in the basket: one box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts, four remaining.
Before I really knew what I was doing, I blurted out: ‘Where are you going with those doughnuts?’
‘I’m going to see my wife, share ‘em with ‘er,’ he yelled back, reaching the first of the zigzag’s zigs. Then: ‘D’you want one?’
At this point, post-run, pre-breakfast, I should have said, ‘Ahh — yes please!’
But I didn’t.
Instead, I automatically said, ‘Nah, you’re alright, thanks. That’s really kind, though.’
‘I got ‘em free, at Waterloo station this morning. I told ‘em I was a delivery driver and if I could have a doughnut — they gave me the ‘ole box!’
At this point I definitely should have said, ‘Ahh, go on then — I’d love one.’ After all, it is nearly my birthday.
But I didn’t.
‘I missed my train last night, had to sleep at the station, didn’t I?’ the young man explains, letting me catch up as he struggled with his engine on the steep zags.
‘They won’t give me my money back, even though I got train insurance. Two ‘undred quid they owe me. It’s a joke.’
I commiserated, then smiled as his engine kicked in and the tricycle burned off up the zigzag, scattering the first of the family sunbathers and the last of the early dog walkers.
This microscopic, heartfelt, sunny connection with tricycle-doughnut man got me thinking.
And list-making.
Things I Can’t Do Right Now Because Of My Wrist
- Type words on a mechanical keyboard
- Play guitar
- Shift gear on my bike (chainrings)
- Open doors while carrying an object in my right hand
- Get into downward dog pose
All very specific things that can be adapted around easily. (And at least one of which I can’t do even with a fully functioning wrist…)
Things I Can Still Do
- Dictate words through my phone
- Run
- Flounder in the gentle waves
- Have funny little interactions with strangers
- Connect
- Listen
- Love
- Allow
All the important things, in other words.
More than anything, though, tricycle man’s beautiful attitude taught me another of life’s little mottos: Always Take The Doughnut.