But the message was always the same … it was meant to build character
A couple of old Army barracks sat far back from the road. One had been converted into living quarters, and the other housed bicycle parts of every kind. The gentleman who lived there allowed any kid who didn’t have a bike to build his own from the piles of frames, parts, and tires. The old man’s guidance was steady and patient. When the bike was completely functional and safe, the child paid the man five dollars. If the kid had no money, he returned and worked the five dollars off by helping to clean up the yard and the bike building. Most kids hung around long after their debt was paid. They learned the value of a giving spirit, and it felt good. That’s why every kid in my hometown had a bike and grew up able to fix, repair, or rebuild it—a set of skills that lasted a lifetime. Those skills included patience, integrity, and a steady hand. The boys from the local orphans’ home spent a lot of time there. They put a gigantic pot of water on each morning, and everyone brought something to put in the pot. Perhaps a can of tomato soup, a can of beans, some carrots to dice up, a cup of rice. Each day was different. They called it Hobo Stew, and the old man added spices before it was served. It was always different, but always good.
