He’s the guy that grew up a mile away from my home and pumped gas for his dad at a station at the end of my street. You want inspiration? Try this one on for size.

Ray Guillemette grew up in my hometown of Chicopee as a normal kid. His mother played Elvis Presley records. This doesn’t seem like anything unusual, and it’s not. Ray really liked the music, though, to the point where he started collecting news clippings on Elvis. This doesn’t make Ray any different than me or anyone else; he was just an honest fan of the man and the music. Everyone has his or her favorite artist, and Elvis was one of Ray’s.

As Ray got older, things snowballed. He and a buddy would go down to the clubs, and Ray would sing karaoke. Not surprisingly, he often gave Elvis a whirl. It didn’t take long before he was taking requests on Saturday nights. On a whim, Ray called a company called Imposter Bostonian after seeing an advertisement they had looking for Michael Jackson and Madonna look-alikes. A couple of months later he was a hit, performing at parties and shows just about every weekend as “A Ray of Elvis.”

After a few months of shows, Ray made a trip down to Memphis with a New Hampshire DJ who saw him perform. With nearly 200 contestants from across the globe, Ray came away with first place in an Elvis impersonation contest. In his first competition ever, Ray beat out them all.

It’s kind of an odd story. Ray went from working as a chef in a local restaurant to performing across the country and overseas in Japan with Presley’s first band, the Jordanaires. Then the rug got pulled out from under him.

On a warm July night last summer on a quiet stretch of Route 83 in Connecticut, Ray and his girlfriend Lisette Thompson were heading back to her home in Somers upon his motorcycle. The roar of an engine and the flash of headlights closed in on them from behind, and their lives were changed forever.

The cowardly driver responded to the accident with a hit-and-run reaction. With Ray and Thompson broken on the pavement and blood oozing onto asphalt, the driver motored on. Thompson, with a fractured wrist, a head wound and a random assortment of bruises, bumps and scrapes, faired relatively luckily in the accident. Ray did not.

Ray Guillemette has endured 14 staples to the head, 13 operations on his left leg, the hospital airlift helicopter trip from Route 83, countless hours of physical therapy and 104-degree fevers due to a horrible infection in his maimed leg. Oh, and the pain. Even after all of those surgeries and fevers, the infection won. After two months of surgeries, traction, and helplessness, Ray had had enough. With options running out, Ray pulled the plug himself, opting for amputation. He wanted control again and by going forward with the amputation, Ray was gaining it. Little less than morphine could ease Ray’s pain after they took his leg.

The worst is over. Ray has been fitted with a prosthetic and is on the road through rehabilitation. While down a leg, he’s not down in spirit – in fact, leg or not, he can’t wait to get back on the stage for more. That’s not a bad thing, and it shows the courage and perseverance that people have inside of them when they really need it. Ray could have given up on everything. He’s better than that.

Some day soon, Ray will no doubt be performing. Mopping sweat from his brow and belting out Presley’s finest, “A Ray of Elvis” will live again. And you know what? Those in attendance who don’t know any better won’t even be able to tell that underneath his pants leg, there’s a limb missing. Or that in the missing limb lays the story of a hero who has overcome.

Ray has two shows booked in April and has stated in interviews that he plans on being a positive influence in people’s lives, just like he always has. My parents caught on the news the other day that he visited a local grammar school to talk to the kids about becoming an amputee and how having a prosthetic doesn’t make people different. He’s right. If Ray is any indication, it makes them better.

I stopped over the weekend to get gas at Ray Guillemette’s Service Station down the street. It’s that station that Ray’s dad, Ray Sr., owns. I wanted to ask him how his son was doing. Unfortunately, Ray Sr. wasn’t there that day. It’s ok, though – it’s pretty easy to know what he would have said. He’s damn proud of his son, just like a lot of other people. It’s hard not to be. When someone takes something so negative and makes it into a positive in their own life and in the lives of others, there’s only one reaction that’s fitting. Ray Guillemette, Jr., “A Ray of Elvis,” has my complete respect. I’ve never seen a show, and it doesn’t matter. Ray has the kind of courage that most men only dream about.