As I parked Mama Springer behind the church, I should have been paying attention. I had washed the Harley CVO Springer. The sun was out with a crispness that comes when the Pacific marine air pushes the smog to somewhere else. I answered the call to ride!
An hour later I came out to find that my ignition switch on. As I pushed the starter-button I heard the click, click of a starter trying to engage without enough battery power. I needed help. A quick call told me it would be twenty minutes. In the interim, I could only hope that someone offered to lend me a hand.
I got everything ready and stood nearby. Mama was looking good although she was clearly injured. Her seat was detached and resting nearby. Jumper cables were neatly arranged next to the Harley.
The first opportunity was a young family. As they walked up, their bright smiles were beacons of hope. They looked at me, looked at the bike, and with beaming faces silently got in their car and left.
The second was an older gentleman dressed to the nines and wearing an introduction label with his name. “Nice bike.” He walked around the bike slowly, taking it all in. I was a bit concerned, but he stepped over the seat, careful to not disturb the scene it in any way. “Good luck with it. Enjoy the ride.”
The third came with an inter-racial couple. He looked across the car and said “I wish I had my bug with me.”
“Really, why?”
“It uses six volts. I could offer to jump start you if it was here.”
“Oh, the Harley is twelve volts.”
She responded with a smile, “Good, then I can help you. Would you like that?”
“These are all warning markers—danger!—in our history books, written down so that we don’t repeat their mistakes. Our positions in the story are parallel—they at the beginning, we at the end—and we are just as capable of messing it up as they were.” (1 Corinthians 10.11)
