A biker with a white beard turned an ordinary grocery run into a Christmas memory one little boy won't forget.
I pulled into a big-box store on Friday to stock up on groceries. I spotted an open parking space right next to an absolutely incredible Harley.
I parked, got out and started admiring the bike. I've always loved motorcycles like that.
A family was loading their groceries into a car nearby: Mom, Dad and a little boy who looked about five.
Then the owner of the Harley walked up.
He looked exactly like the classic biker. Leather pants, cowboy boots, a leather vest over his bare chest, a ZZ Top tattoo on one forearm and an AC/DC tattoo on the other.
And then there was the hair.
A huge, snow-white mane of curls, along with an equally white beard that reached almost to his belly.
He looked like a cross between a ZZ Top guitarist and Santa Claus on a motorcycle.
The little boy suddenly shouted:
"Mom, look! Santa Claus!"
His mother smiled and told him:
"No, honey. He's a biker."
The boy's lower lip started to stick out.
That's when the biker turned toward him and spoke in a deep, perfectly serious voice.
"Actually, I am Santa Claus."
The boy looked at him.
"Where's your red coat? And why are you riding a motorcycle?"
"It's summer. I'm on vacation. I ride around for a while and check on the kids to see who's behaving and who's not. That way I'll know who gets presents at Christmas and who doesn't. And I'm riding a motorcycle because the reindeer are on vacation, too. They're out eating grass and getting their strength back. They'll have plenty of work to do when winter comes."
The boy thought about that for a moment.
"Where's Mrs. Claus?"
"She's down south. She's vacationing in Turkey."
"Won't she melt?"
"No. That's just part of the story. We don't melt when it's hot."
Then the biker opened one of the motorcycle's saddlebags.
It was packed with small stuffed bunnies.
He pulled one out and handed it to the boy.
"Be a good boy, listen to your Mom and Dad, and you'll get a really good present at Christmas."
The boy looked like he was about to cry from happiness.
The biker then turned toward me, winked and quietly whispered:
"Third one today."
He climbed onto his motorcycle and slowly rode away.
Mom was smiling. Dad was smiling. The little boy was hugging his stuffed bunny.
I looked up at the sunshine and thought:
"Life is pretty wonderful."