As Robert motored along the highway, his faithful truck was trying to tell him something – you forgot to buy gas! For the first time in his life he had run out of gas. Robert had always smirked at his friends and family who’d done this, as if to say, “How could you be so stupid? There’s a gauge on the dashboard to tell you that your tank is empty, and all you have to do is read it.” He was right. There was a gauge, and it said empty. Robert was not happy and he coasted to the side of the road.
As Robert was thinking what to do next, he heard a motorcycle pull up beside him: a big, throaty, rumbling, growling Harley-Davidson. Robert opened his door and was face to face with a throwback to the 1960s.
Snakes were painted all over his face shield and helmet, and tattooed all over his body. The motorcyclist wore the traditional Harley-Davidson garb: denim jacket, jeans and biker boots. Chains hung from every available hook or loop. His hair was so long that he had it doubled up and tied to keep it out of his wheels. The Harley was straight out of Easy Rider – extended front fork; suicide rack on the back; black, purple and green paint job, and the gas tank painted to look like a skull with glowing green eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he said. His shield and helmet completely masked his face. “I’m out of gas,” Robert whispered. “Be right back.” And he rode off. About fifteen minutes later he returned with a can of gas.
When Robert offered to pay him he said, “Wait till ya get to the station.”
Robert started his truck and drove the three miles to the station as he followed along in the pouring rain. Again Robert offered to pay him. He said, “Pay the guy inside. Everything okay now?” Robert said yes. He said, “See ya!” And off he rode down the highway, hair undone and flying in the wind, Harley roaring and throwing up spray from the pavement.
After pumping twenty-four dollars worth of gas, Robert went into the station and gave the attendant thirty dollars. He said, “It’s only four dollars. The other guy had paid twenty and said to tell you to ‘pass it on, Brother.’ ”
Robert will always remember the kindness of the snakes-and-chains stranger on the Harley with the glowing green eyes, and he will never again judge by looks or perception. And he will always wonder, “Who was that masked man?” As for the twenty dollars, he passes it on every chance he gets.
Change the way you look at things and the things you look at change.
– Wayne W. Dyer