I had the privilege of working with Jamie for the past 6-7 years. Jamie was a rare breed in today’s world: he was a man who viewed the world through a window in his heart. I’d like to share a anecdote that typifies the kind of man I knew. | | | | | Oddly enough, I met Jamie before he started work at Kawartha Chrysler. It was a hot Friday evening and I had recently taken up cycling. One of my favourite routes was to take River Road, which extends from Trent University out to Lakefield. On this day I saddled up as usual and headed out for my ride. It was an unremarkable evening and when I hit River Road I started to get into my rhythm and began to click off the kms – to get into the zone, so to speak. | | | | | River Road is quiet, yet very windy with lots of hidden bends and rather sharp turns. I began to hear the faint sound of a base pounding in the distance ahead. I was coming upon the huge curve just before Lock 24 and I could now hear the noise approaching fast, but before I could even react I was staring down the grille of a silver Olds – in my lane - and had no choice but to ditch and hope for the best. To this day I can still vividly remember the look on the kid’s face behind the wheel as he over shot the turn and nearly took me out. | | | | | The bike and I tumbled down the steep incline end over end and I luckily landed right side up. I took a moment to get my bearings and assess the damage: I was ok but the bike was unrideable, so I hauled it back up to the road. The kid had stopped momentarily, saw I was mobile and took off. As the dust cleared I could see a truck had pulled off just up the road, throwing on its 4-ways after. A guy jumped out and approached me; he saw the whole thing and asked if I was ok. He looked tough with his big build, shaggy hair and goatee, and I suddenly realized I looked completely ridiculous standing there in purple spandex and holding my twin sister’s old pink road bike, wheel rims bent like tacos. I responded a little too quickly, “I’m ok but my sister’s gonna need a new bike.” No doubt embarrassed for me, the guy looked at me with his head tilted, raked his hands through his hair, stroked his goatee and said, “Let’s get those f***ers!!” I laughed and said I might not be much of a fighter in this outfit. We both chuckled. He grabbed my bike and said, “Let me give you a ride home.” | | | | | We walked toward his older Dodge pick-up and tossed the bike in the back. On the ride home we shot the s*** and he told me about his truck. When we got to the bottom of my street I asked him to let me out so my wife wouldn’t see. I explained it might put an early end to my cycling career. He grinned and said “Good enough.” As I grabbed the bike and closed the tailgate, something stuck out in my mind: his personalized plate read ‘CHICO’. | | | | | It was a good year or so later when this old Dodge showed up at Kawartha with those same plates. When I introduced myself neither of us spoke a word of our first encounter. | | | | | To this day I regret not thanking Jamie. You know, I could have had 3 eyes and been wearing a clown suit and it wouldn’t have mattered: Jamie always acted from the heart. He would never pass up an opportunity to help out another who needed him, even a complete stranger. | | | | | More recently this year my sister-in-law has been battling cancer. Although for the most part Jamie kept to himself at work, he made a point to come over each week and ask me how she was doing. This truly speaks to his character. We have lost more than a loving husband and father, and loyal friend and gifted mechanic. Jamie was a kind hearted man of integrity, and he will be missed. | | | | | Thank you, Jamie, for the ride!