So yesterday I stop for gas in Middleburgh, NY. Generic gas station at the crossroads of some good riding roads. So I'm looking over my map, and decide that there's this neat looking road nearby, that puts me in the direction of the Adirondacks. So I stroll over and as a grizzled looking guy with a Harley. These guys don't ride far, so it's usually a good bet they know the local roads.
Anyway, I ask if he knows how to get to SR 10, and he says his buddy will. So we go over to the rest of his gang. Oddly enough, they're called the disciples. As things go on, I notice that their biker ladies are discussing things like "cranberries vs blueberries in oatmeal" and cleaning products. Not your normal biker lady fare.
Next thing you know, they have me surrounded in a circle. 10 or 12 of them. All of them reach in and put a hand on me. Like I'm in the middle of a big "GOOO TEAM!" Then they start praying. For me, my bike, them, their bikes, everyone on bikes, those without bikes, those who once had bikes but don't now but plan on getting another one soon. Lots of Jesus flying around in that circle.
Then they give me tracts from the Christian Motorcyclist Association, and a card with a couple names and numbers that essentially says "If you break down, give us a call and we'll come give you some Jesus."
I thanked them, finally relented and took one of their homemade chocolate peanut butter cookies (from a country needlepoint sampler tin), beat a hasty retreat and promptly headed down to the next gas station down the road to get my gas.
And I think Jesus would ride a KTM 660R Adventure. They didn't have much for roads back then, and even going from his day-gig as a carpenter to go hang out with the disciples would be like running Paris Dakar. He's gonna need that extra suspension travel.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment