why are Motorcyclists are better than christians?
A couple weeks ago, when I was at my wit’s end about what could possibly be wrong with my bike, a NASCAR mechanic from Indiana read my expletive-ridden posting on a message board and rode up to my house with a couple tools and made things right.
Last Sunday I put together this little architecturally based motorcycle ride. During said ride, my bike kept faltering, holding the whole thing up. We sat, blocking traffic in the middle of Michigan Ave, but everyone waited patiently for me. Then, near the end of the ride my clutch completely burned out and I had to abandon my bike at Damen & 22nd. The next day a nice guy who works at a hedge fund read my craigslist post about my situation and picked me up in his truck and we rode down there to retrieve it.
What the hell? Why are motorcycle people such saints. Even as a kid I remember that all my dad’s thuggy friends in LAMA were total sweethearts. I was still afraid to beat them at pool, though.
I don’t know, I bet if I called the 700 club and told them my Jesus broke down out in the alley, they’d send over a whole bus of people who would be happy to get me all revved up again. It might go like this:
Me: Hi, 700 club? I lost Jesus while I was taking out my garbage. Can you help me?
700 club: Sure, where do you live? We’ll send over 700 Christians who will refill you full of Jesus.
You just can’t judge a book by its cover….a theory that has proven itself over and over again!