“Good morning,” Ceepak says.
“Morning,” the father says. “Is there some problem?”
“No, sir. It's all good.”
He bends down to talk to a boy on a blue bike.
“What's your name?”
“Sam. Sam Morkal-Williams.”
“And who are you, young lady?”
“Meghan Morkal-Williams.”
“Do you like riding your bikes?”
“Yes …” the boy says, kind of quietly.
“How about you Meghan?”
“I love it!” She sort of shouts.
“Good,” says Ceepak. “That's awesome. I see you're both wearing your helmets.”
“Yes, sir,” the boy says.
“We always wear them when we ride our bikes,” the girl adds.
The father just sort of smiles, leans back on his bike seat, and raises up both hands as if to say, “Hey, they're my kids, of course they're perfect.” He has on his helmet, too.
“Does your daddy wear his helmet all the time?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Awesome. Well, then. Here you go.”
Ceepak reaches into one of his many pockets and pulls out two slips of paper.
“These are for free ice cream cones. Because you know the law and you chose to obey it and that makes my job a whole lot easier. So this morning? I just wanted to say ‘Thank you.’”
He hands them the ice-cream coupons. I wonder when he had time to buy them.
“Mister?”
“Yes, Sam?”
“Does dad get one? He‘s wearing his helmet, too.”
“You're absolutely right. Fair's fair. Here you go, sir.”
“That's okay,” the father says.
“Sir, it is my pleasure.”
The dad smiles and takes the ice-cream coupon. The people watching? They applaud.
“Danny?”
“Yes, sir.”
We head back to the car.
“Know any good sandwich shops?” Ceepak asks when we open our doors.
“We just ate breakfast.”
“Roger that. But I promised Mr. Jerry Shapiro I would bring him and Gladys a tomato, mozzarella, and basil on a baguette. One for each of them. And chips. He requested taro chips. Know any good vegetarian establishments?”
“There's The Good Earth, this veggie place on Ocean Avenue.”
“Sounds like it'll work.” He checks his watch. “Let's roll. I gave him my word.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Danny?”
“Yeah?”
“If you don't mind-let's switch sides. I feel like driving today.”
“Roger that.”
We do a quick Chinese Fire Drill routine around the Ford and change seats.
Ceepak drives okay. A little slow, but okay.
Watching him behind the wheel, I'm reminded of that song Springsteen wrote for the New York City Fire Fighters after 9/11, the guys who went “Into the Fire” because they knew it was the right thing to do.
May your strength give us strength
May your faith give us faith
May your hope give us hope
May your love give us love
Like I said, some guys have a code they live by, some guys don't.
John Ceepak? He has a code.
Me?
I'm working on it.
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