I had my morning commute perfectly planned.

I would try a new street: Google maps said it would be 1 minute faster.

I would make it to work by 8:30 and take advantage of the quiet time for some deep work.

 

I immediately hit a line of stopped cars and construction.

I rolled my eyes at the fact that I had actually lost 5 minutes, instead of gaining 1.

Slightly annoyed, but not defeated, I turned around and continued on my familiar route.

As I made my way, I felt something fall, and at first thought I had just run over something.

Then I realized my pedal had fallen off.

Bike paths in Hamburg are intense – it’s take no prisoners and you will get plowed down if you are in the way.

I stood there in my heeled boots (admittedly not optimal biking shoes) trying to screw the pedal back on.

I got back on the bike, pedaled, it fell off.

I tried this a couple more times, thinking I could go really slowly and still make it.

I was kind of in no-man’s-land.

15 minutes away from my office, exactly in the middle of 2 subway stops – both 12 minutes walk. My apartment was about the same distance.

I also needed my bike in the evening, so had to get the pedal fixed. I couldn’t just leave it and come back for it later.

I decided to walk it to the subway, take it on the subway to my office, where my regular bike shop is.

Of course while I was walking, the pedal-less metal piece snagged my tights.

I carried it on the escalator to get on the subway and it fell on an innocent commuter.

I carried it down the stairs to get off the subway because there’s no escalator at that stop.

I walked up to the bike repair shop as the owner was opening up and putting out bikes for the day.

He looked at me and said, “what happened today?”

I held up the pedal.

We both laughed.

I have taken my bike to this guy about 4-5 times; most recently was 2 weeks ago to replace a broken chain. He also replaced a tire, brakes, light.

You see, I bought this bike for €30  after I had 2 bikes stolen. Why invest in another fancy bike that would just be stolen?

The owner tries to tell me that all the little things add up, but when I tell him my reasons for owning this piece of metal with 2 wheels, he reluctantly agrees.

He came out with his little stool, 2 new pedals, and told me he would usually charge €18, but for me, €10.

I asked if “those” pedals were ok for “these” boots.

As he sat there and changed the pedals while I held the bike steady, he asked if my family was here.

I said no.

“You are alone here?!?” He couldn’t believe it.

Then I realized I didn’t even know his name.

So I asked him.

“Ahmed.”

“Ahmed, you always help me out.”

“That’s what everyone says!”

I asked where he was from and he said Afghanistan.

When he was done, he said if I didn’t have the money, I could pay him later.

I thanked him and told him I really enjoy seeing him, but I hope I don’t see him soon (actually I’m sure I used that corny line before with him).

I got to work by 10.

My to-do list is still waiting to be checked off.

But in a situation where I would normally be frustrated, annoyed, upset, I realized my morning was so much better than a normal, mundane morning.

I experienced a beautiful human interaction.

I’ve been trying to be a little more personal with people who I interact with regularly, but know nothing about – to cultivate intention and depth and connection. Asking someone their name is a good start.

I’m glad I did the same this morning with Ahmed.