Untitled Document

"The Trail of Letters"

Based on a true story, this film is about the youngest person to ever ride a motorcycle from coast to coast from New York to San Francisco, and he did that in 1911!  

On a special Indian motorcycle which his father built for him. He rides for months through the vast landscapes of America, supported by letters of support and instruction sent ahead to chemist gas stops in foresight by his father as his dying wish. With every chemist there are unexpected encounters at every stepping stone town and settlement along the way. 

Throughout his epic journey he learns the skill of listening in three different ways. …..sometimes for his mere survival. Imagine a 10 year boy with a very old looking motorcycle, pushing it through ankle deep cold mud, for in his time there are no highways, only back roads and mud trails, he keeps his mind on the next chemist shop, for that's the only place where he can get gas. It's a hundred years ago and the boy and his motorcycle still have thousands of miles between them and San Francisco. In those days you didn't need a license or be of a certain age, and his father had built him a special motorcycle so he could get his feet on the ground.

Building that bike was the last thing his father could ever do for Willie, before he passed away and Willie became an orphan.  But the bike was not the only thing that would get him there, he also needed food and water and so his father sent nearly one hundred letters to chemists, to every stepping stone town and settlement along the long….. long way.

Only a few years later grown ups would do the same voyage crossing from New York to San Francisco, taking months, maybe just to prove a point or perhaps later saying, Hey Look at Me!" but for Willie there's a different reason for being on the road, he is to live with his gold mining uncle in San Francisco, his only remaining relative. Now pushing his bike through the mud the boy is wondering what the next chemist will have in store for him, the last one surely lied saying that he “never got no letter,…. boy!”   His chest still hurts with every push from that last encounter. The only way to get gas and continue riding was to clean the man’s stables and in one of them a big angry black horse had suddenly kicked him in the chest and knocked him out cold.

More pain, as he came to his senses again because a broomstick was poking in his chest, the angry man yelling at him "how dare you fall asleep in my barn, boy!"  After all that Willie still needed to continue cleaning all the other stables before he could get his gallon of gas and move on.

Earlier that morning he was trying to cross a stream with big stones, the kind where you would expect a bear to hunt for salmon, and as he was wading through he had lost his balance, fell! and the bike plunged in the icy cold running water, he tried to lift it but the water was just too cold and he just wasn't strong enough.  Exhausted Willie sat down, not knowing what he could do to get his bike back, the water was just too deep and too cold. As he looked up he was shocked when he saw the same horse again, coming closer,... for a drink, but it paid no attention to Willie and he noticed it still had a lasso around its neck, it must have escaped from that horrible man! Good for the horse!  With trembling knees Willie trusted his intuition and approached the mighty and powerful horse, a pluck of grass in his hand as if to offer friendship. It took a while,.. maybe an hour or so to trust each other, and then Willie guided the horse slowly into the stream, tying the bike up to the lasso and moments later after a hefty heave from the horse, his new friend, his bike was safe on the other shore!

Was all that only hours ago? It seemed a lot longer than that, as he ploughed on with his bike through the mud, it slowly began to give way to more firm ground.  Up to a point where he thinks he can start driving again, so he decides to give an even harder push and start running. As the engine starts turning over and sucking in air and gas, compressing it and then BANG!, and an other BANG!, now he is no longer pushing the bike, it is pulling him harder and harder with every new BANG! from the exhaust.  He flings his leg high up in the air, gripping hard on the handlebars determined not to let go, and for a split second he is in mid air, and it feels like he's flying! 

Over the turning front wheel he sees the next town where he hopes to fill the gas tank again. At the chemist shop in this town he takes a deep breath of air and pushes the door, the doorbell rings loud and even before it stops a deep voice from within the shop cries out "What's you're name son!"  “Willie, sir, Willie Wright " I knew it!" the chemist says with an even louder voice and a big smile " ooh aah.. sorry about you're pa son" " Why! some folks wouldn't hear of it, some bet for or against it but I knew, I just knew you would make it son!" " Here, this here letter announced your coming, all but a year and a half ago" the chemist waves a letter above his head and looks past Willie to a crowd that has gathered in front of the shop, peering through the window, they've already heard the news somehow and are trying to catch a glimpse of...that young boy and his motorcycle.   "You are most welcome here Mr.! Willie Wright!"

After a few days of rest and respite the boy travels further, but not before the chemist took him aside saying that in the letter his father mentions a visit to an Indian tribe nearby, but the chemist warns him of those strange people, “They don’t speak our language see, and you never know what they’re up to” Despite this warning he stays with Indians for a few days, and learns a rain dance, although he never believed that that would work,…” You'll see what rain we mean” said the old Indian when he departed, funny, he didn't think any of them could speak his language at all, and yet he made friends and had fun without too many words. Listening to people in different ways.

Later still when he faces his biggest challenge, the crossing of a vast desert plain, he overlooks the desert from a mountain ridge when he meets a blind girl, herding goats, she tells him to close his eyes and not to open them no matter what! At first all he hears is the wind and his own heartbeat, but then after a while he hears a bird's wings, a falcon is soaring up towards them and without warning lands on his shoulder. The falcon will be his guide through the desert, it rains that night somewhere in the desert, just a few salty drops from a little boys eyes. There and then he is faced with all his demons and grief in the vast solitude of the desert.
In the morning he listens intently for direction, and hears the answer in the flight of the Falcon that guides him.

Then finally he arrives in San Francisco and comes face to face with his uncle, only to find that he turns out to be a hopeless and brutal drunk. There in that short moment all the lessons merge in to one and trusting his intuition Willie abruptly turns away. But where should he go now?  

No more letters, no more gas, Willie becomes desperate and longs for his father now more than ever.   During the day he's seen an old man in front of an old run down bicycle repair shop feeding birds, and all the people that passed him greeted him kindly.  In the night, in the pouring rain he breaks into his shop, and starts to work. He uses all the skills his father tried to teach him and some that he learned along the way, to finish all the bikes in the shop overnight.

In the morning the old man comes down the stairs, greeted by rows of shiny bikes, and in between them a little boy is fast asleep.  
The old bicycle repairman makes a cup of tea, and then sees a letter that says "The End" and starts reading it out loud.
"My son.. you have now come to the end of this journey, I hope you have learned what I failed to teach when I was still alive. In the letters that I have sent I tried to be with you for as much as I could, I do wish I could see you now. I am proud of you. Now you have started to listen in three ways the world will open for you, listen to your intuition, to your environment and to other people. Reach out to them and hear their needs, and kindness will be your reward, against odds touch the cold hearts just the same. Listen to the rhythm of your heart and your life, and you will rise to it!
Farewell and safe journey. Your loving father

Slowly Willie wakes up, as the letter ends they sit in silence sipping their steaming tea. It looks like Willie has found his place under the sun.