The wind was strong that afternoon. So strong in fact that to keep the Harley from being blown over I had to counter my weight to the left with every gust of wind to keep it upright. As we rolled into and out of the corners, up and over the hills south of the Palouse, we were tired. About forty miles to go and we would be in Walla Walla. I could already taste the cold beer that awaited my sun and wind parched mouth and lips. A good scrubbing of my face to remove the bugs and road dust was in order as well. We had already ridden over 200 miles that day through some of the most beautiful country the Inland Northwest has to offer. Having started in Spokane, going to Coeur d'Alene, then down through Moscow and Lewiston before coming back into Washington. It was the end of the day. The sun would be going down soon and we were now passing wheat field after wheat field and I was ready to give my butt a rest.After a brief stop in Dayton, WA to tighten up my footpeg we arrived in Walla Walla. My first time there and I was looking forward to seeing the town. Kelli was looking forward to exploring all the wine tasting shops and, like mentioned before, I was looking forward to a cold beer and getting cleaned up. We pulled into a big parking lot to stretch and to talk about what we wanted to do next. I lit a cigarette as Kelli dug into the right saddle-bag to get out her purse. That's when all hell broke loose.
Earlier in the day, in Clarkston, WA Kelli had noticed her purse was coming apart at the zipper and because she STUFFS that thing she was having to hold it shut while we were riding. It's not a big purse, more like an over sized wallet. There are two clips that hook onto belt loops so she can attach it to her and not worry about losing it. With the zipper coming apart and not wanting her to worry about stuff coming out I told her to put it in the saddle-bag. We had plenty of space on the bike. I had my handlebar bag and she had the two saddle-bags. More stuff fit into our "T-Bag", a large bag, that rides on the rack behind the "sissy-bar". All of these would be emptied out into the parking lot...with no care about the fact we looked like we were opening a swap-meet.
With clothes, gear, toiletries, and everything else we carried thrown about the area around the Harley we really did look like a yard sale or swap-meet. As she frantically searched through all of our stuff she broke down as she realized that she didn't have her purse. "WHERE THE $*%@ IS MY PURSE" is all I heard. I took a drag of my cigarette and said, "It was in the saddle-bag". That was dumb. She already knew that and I realized it was a rhetorical question and my response was not needed nor appreciated. The next thing out of her mouth was unintelligible. Through her tears and panic I could not make out what she was trying to say. I fought back a laugh and quickly, and smartly, understood that this wasn't the right time to chuckle. I put out my smoke and wrapped her up with big hug and told her that we'd figure it out.
Figuring it out meant that we would then load the bike back up with all of our swap-meet goods then head back 40-50 miles to the last two places we stopped. A quick check of the map reminded me about the stop in Dayton then before that we stopped along a small river to stretch. Kelli could not remember when she had last gotten into the saddle-bag to get something out of her purse. She vaguely remembered needing chap-stick but couldn't remember where that was. I couldn't remember her getting into the saddle-bag either though she's kinda sneaky sometimes.
Now, let me explain something. I don't mind riding and I don't mind that I didn't get that beer when I had anticipated. What did worry the hell out of me was that it was now dusk. For those of you that don't ride let me fill you in...BUGS. Yep. Them little bastards HURT when you're hauling ass at 70-80 MPH. Here's a well know fact to anyone who rides. More bugs come out at dusk and just after dark. One of the reasons I had wanted to make Walla Walla BEFORE dusk was that there were already a lot of bugs out during the day and I didn't really want to find MORE of them at dusk. Another thing. DEER. Yep. Over in that area there are a bunch of them. They like to get up and move at dusk and just after dark. Probably because of the bugs but also because it's cooler and they're more comfortable. With this being September the deer are really mobile. They're going into the rut and are all sorts of excited. This was evidenced by the number of dead deer I saw on the side of the road. Fresh ones too. I had no choice. We had to go look for that purse and I would just have to deal with the bugs and watch for deer.
The one thing I was thankful for was that we were on the Harley. That meant that Kelli wouldn't be able to talk. Now, I don't mean that rude but come on guys...you know what I mean. She was going to have to run it all through her mind and remember where she pulled that purse out. Getting back onto Highway 12 headed East I started to pray. Now, I don't pray as often as I probably should but when I do pray I don't pray for me to "get" something. I pray for my friends and family. I pray for clarity. I pray that I might be more patient and understanding. I pray for my kids to be safe. I pray and give thanks for the blessings that I have. I pray for all sorts of stuff but I don't pray for God to do anything for me. I just personally think that is selfish and when I'm talking to JC I want him to know, which I know he does, that I'm talking to him out of love not greed.
The bugs were out and I saw deer on the edge of the fields thinking about crossing the road. I was white-knuckled as I rolled the throttle past 80 MPH. I was deep in thought. I was praying. I was praying that we wouldn't hit a deer but mostly I was praying that we would find that purse. I prayed HARD. I prayed that if someone found the purse at the gas station we had stopped at that they would do the right thing. I prayed for their forgiveness if they hadn't. I prayed that they might have a change of heart. I prayed for Kelli. I prayed that God would do this thing for me, for her. I literally told him, "God, I don't ask for anything. I know I'm not perfect and I know that I tread on thin ice but PLEASE GOD give me this." I even told him I would work on cutting back on something. Swearing, drinking, smoking, or something. I was praying and I was willing to do anything.
We got to the gas station in Dayton and no purse. We asked the cashier if anyone had turned it in or if she had seen it but neither were the case. Kelli had calmed down but still could not remember taking her purse out. We jumped back on the bike and continued East out of Dayton to the river where we had taken a stretch. Another 20 miles, more bugs, more deer, and more prayers. Though I was doubting that we would ever find this purse I was still praying. At the river we searched all over the area and still no purse. Kelli had been taking stock of all her contents. License, credit cards, debit cards, cash, etc and a silver dollar her dad had given her for "something old" to have at our wedding two days prior. Most everything could be replaced but the hassle and fear of identity theft was the worst part. Hanging our heads we jumped back on the bike and headed West. We stopped at the same gas station in Dayton. I needed fuel and I wanted to talk with the cashier. I gave her my contact information just in case someone turned it in, that change of heart I was still praying for.
The ride back was dark and spooky. Glowing eyes from the fields told me that there were a ton of deer just itching to cross the road. We rolled in to Walla Walla, got a hotel room then went for a bite to eat. That cold beer tasted even better than I had anticipated. Kelli had calmed down. She had cancelled her credit cards and ordered new ones. We talked about our schedule and when she would be able to get her license replaced. From what she could piece together she concluded that she must have taken the purse out of the saddle-bag and left it at the gas station in Dayton. That was the only thing that made any sense. Assuming someone had found and kept the purse we prayed for them. The next day we got up and hit the road again making our way home through Tri-Cities and over Chinook Pass. Home safe and sound with 900 miles behind us.
Then two weeks later, on 9-22-11, a letter arrives. Addressed to Kelli it was from R. Siciliano in NYC, NY. There was $180 cash, a credit card, and Kelli's ID card inside the handwritten letter. The letter is attached above.
Words cannot describe the flood of emotions we felt. Who was this woman? Rachel Siciliano, some woman riding a bicycle from NYC to Astoria, OR!?!!? Are you kidding me!!!! Kelli and I both stared at the letter then at each other in amazement. I quickly realized that my prayers had been answered. I remembered on the way back to Walla Walla I had even jokingly asked God, "What gives!? I didn't ask for much! You couldn't help me out a little!?" Well, apparently the lady that he sent to help me out had an issue with her bicycle and was running behind. I'm now dining on fresh crow and humble pie! From what we figure she didn't get the saddle-bag closed up all the way after the stop at the river and the purse fell out on the highway East of Dayton.
I truly believe that we are all here to help each other. Lord knows I forget that sometimes but I'm so incredibly grateful that Rachel Siciliano didn't. It's our turn now to pay it forward. We are so excited to do just that. We hope and pray that someday we'll get to meet Rachel. To share our story and personally thank her. If this blog gets forwarded far enough we just might (HINT HINT!!!!).
Wherever she is I wish her all the best. She has proven to me that we are all in some way connected and that there is still good, decent people out there that do the right thing. We'll never forget her and will pray for her in all of her adventures.
