I went to the sleepy Dutch town of
“Which way is the station?” I ask him. He looks confused, not because I’m speaking English to a boy of no more than 15 but, apparently because of the distance. “But I’m going that way,” he says. “I’ll give you a ride.”
So, I hop on the back of his sturdy oma fiets and we take off toward the station. When he asks where I’m from, I admit to being American. “You don’t see many American girls in
This boy is sweet, but obviously not used to giving bike lifts, evident by the struggle he has steering and maintaining speed. Through his laboured breathing, he tries to keep up some light conversation.
“Where are you headed?” I ask him. “To volleyball practice,” he replies. “Well, you can tell all your friends you gave an American girl a ride to the station,” I say. “Yea right!” he exclaims, “Like they’d believe me!”
I can’t help but smile at the fact I may have just made this boy's day – and after fully realizing the walk I had ahead of me before I met him, he’s made my day too.
At the station, he drives me literally to the platform steps. “That was the best bike ride ever,” I tell him as I hop off. “You’re welcome,” he says, then we kiss three times, and part ways.