The Road Trip
Paul Delgado
My cousin Richie went to Loyola. He was a top athlete but unfortunately didn’t make the varsity rowing team roster for the 1973 Western Conference finals in Vancouver. He was disappointed but still wanted to show his support to the team. So, one Friday night over a few beers, he and his buddy Jerry decided they would ride their motorcycles to Vancouver for the championship games the following weekend. With limited funds, they calculated they had enough money to make it there and back, yet still have enough cash for partying with their teammates. When they left L.A, they made sure to stash money for return gas and motels in Richie’s backpack. “This is untouchable” Rich said. “No matter what, we can’t spend this dough.” “Absolutely,” Jerry answered. So off they went.
The motorcycle ride to Vancouver was long but uneventful. Upon arriving in Canada, they were enthusiastically greeted by their teammates and then proceeded to blow almost all their money over the course of a couple of days. The night before they began their ride back to L.A. and in a state of “Coors enlightenment,” they calculated that a little of the “untouchable” cash could be spent. They had met a couple of girls and wanted to impress, so foolishly, they dug into the “untouchable” cash stash.
The next day, with serious hangovers, they said goodbye to the girls and began the long trek home. It was March, and the weather was cold. As they approached Medford, Oregon, they realized they only had enough money for gas and would not be able to stay in a motel. Pressing on, the weather worsened, and it began snowing. Stopping under a bridge on I-5, completely exhausted and freezing, they realized they were in deep trouble.
Shivering uncontrollably in the night air, they knew they wouldn’t survive unless they found shelter, so Richie decided on a course of action. “We need to get to the local police station.” Trembling and blue from the cold, they walked into the small police office and asked the desk sergeant if he would arrest them so they would have somewhere to stay. The officer shook his head and said, “Sorry boys,” and explained he couldn’t do that as they had not committed any crime. With despair in their eyes, Rich and his buddy turned toward the door when suddenly the sergeant stopped them and asked them to wait a moment. Putting on his Sheriff’s Parka, he told them to get on their motorcycles and wait for him outside.
After a couple of minutes, the sergeant pulled up and told the boys to follow him. Dutifully, they nodded and rode off behind the squad car. After about a half-mile, they pulled into a Motel 6 parking lot. Together they walked into the lobby, and the sergeant asked the clerk to get the boys a room which he personally paid for. He then gave them a little money for burgers at the McDonald’s across the street.
Rich and his buddy couldn’t believe it. “Thanks so much” was all they could say. “How can we repay you?” The sergeant smiled and said, “Once upon a time, I was a dumb kid too.” “Next time, you guys might want to plan a little better.” He chuckled and climbed into his car and drove off. The next day, the weather had cleared, and after a long and exhausting ride, they made it safely back to L.A.
Over the past fifty years, Rich has recounted this story many times and is still touched by the officer’s uncommon kindness and generosity, which probably saved their lives.
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