The old man with the bicycle

It was August 1977 when I met the old man with the bicycle.

I arrived in the old city of Vézelay, France, on a Saturday morning. By bus from the nearest train station 7 miles away. My plan was to spend that day and part of the next there, before taking the bus back to the train station.

Except I quickly learned that buses didn’t run on Sundays. I’d have to stay a day longer than planned. Which is not a huge problem when you’re backpacking and have no set schedule.

The Youth Hostel was about half a mile down the road from the city and mostly deserted when I got there in late morning.

Come evening, it was full of young travelers from around the world. Right among them was the old man with the bicycle.

Which one does not belong?

I first noticed the bicycle. It was old. Probably a relic from before the war. Sturdy. And then there was the suitcase. One of the old ones, like the one George Bailey is given in It’s a Wonderful Life. The old man later told me he got it in ’38 and it had been with him on all his biking adventures around the French countryside over the years.

Then there was the man himself. I found out he was 72. Looked like he’d worked outside much of his life. Thin, weathered. But with eyes and a face full of life and…