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| Jed, an angel by Webster's definition. Procedure done, heading home. Photo credit to Sue, another angel. |
I
have found that there are angels associated with my rides, and already one connected
to my ride that doesn’t start until three more days. Most of these people
wouldn’t consider themselves to be such a one, they were being true to
themselves and being who they are, they couldn’t help themselves helping me.
I’d
like to share two examples, one in the long ago past and one ongoing. But first
a word from my friend Webster. Noah says this about ‘angel’: a spiritual being serving as a divine messenger
and intermediary and often as a special protector of an individual or nation.
Both people and instances described below fit the definition.
1972
- During the late summer of 1972, Jim McClelland
and I set off on a planned six-week ride to cover about 6,000 miles. We were
told by bike shops and people we were talking to that people would jerk us
around and just plain be nasty to us. After all, the “Easy Rider” movie was
only a year or two old. With one slight exception, we found the opposite to be
true and that guy was being opportunistic and greedy and he didn’t win anything
from us.
One
angelic visitation I keep in mind was during the day Jim and I had planned to
ride into Yellowstone National Park at the eastern gate. We broke camp and hit
the highway as planned. There was no one sharing the two-lane strip of asphalt
when we passed two boy scouts hitchhiking. We looked at each other, shrugged,
and went back for them, strapping their packs on top of ours. Within minutes,
we came over a rise that overlooks a plain and we saw the rain a mile or two
out front of us. We pulled over and explained things to our guests as we pulled
on our cheep rainsuits. We had nothing to wrap our gear in and no windscreens
to protect us on our basic bikes. The boy scouts decided to tough it out. We rode
over 150 miles in the rain into Cody, Wyoming only to find out the entrance to
the park was closed due to snow, in August.
Everything
the four of us had with us was soaked. We found a laundromat and hauled
everything in and began loading dryers. Our plan was to get dried out and find
a cheap motel for the night, not an easy task with all the caged park visitors
doing the same thing only without the need for a dryer. Before any of us could
drop the first quarter in the slot a woman came out and she was aghast at what
she saw. It was a reaction that made Jim and me think we were about to be
kicked out. Not so.
“Oh,
you poor boys! Here, let me…” The owner/manger of the laundromat opened the
four dryers’ controls and turned them on while she told us to dry everything we
needed. When I asked her if she knew where a decent motel was, she saw the ichthus
I wore around my neck and explained that most of the motels would be full right
then but that she knew a preacher who ran a half-way house we could stay the
night at. Jim and I took her up on the recommendation but the boy scouts opted
to go their own way.
This
was one exceptional angel and I offer a prayer of thanksgiving for her kindness
every time I remember her.
On
our way out of town the next day we passed by the hitchhiking boy scouts who,
when they saw us coming, suddenly needed to find either change or keys in their
pockets. Jim and I waved as we rode on and into the park.
Wednesday,
September 6, 2023 – This was
the day I had planned on changing the oil in my Victory Cross Country in
preparation for my 2000-mile ride starting next week. Simple, right? Not so much.
I
have limited space in my garage to do oil changes but then, I don’t need much
for the procedure. I got everything I needed ready for the operation and
loosened the drain plug. And loosened and loosened it until I was sure
something was wrong. It wasn’t backing out. I figured I could wedge a chisel in
to give it some leverage for the threads to bite. But then what? I’d have a
bike with no oil and be standing there with a drain plug in my hand and no way
to adequately secure it to hold oil, even for a trip down the hill for gas.
I
needed an angel or there would be no trip for yet another year. I texted Jed.
Instant
response. “Hi Jerry. I have the proper fix it kit for the drain plug here…”
When I asked when a good time would be he said, “Now is good”. I cancelled my
attendance at the weekly lunch with my father-in-law and brothers-in-law and Cindy
went by herself. I geared up and rode over to Jed and Sue's.
I
was feeling like a doofus, a term I am applying quite liberally to certain
drivers while I’m either driving or riding along. Jed explained the procedure
and told me he had done this to both his and Sue's bikes and other friends’ as well. I
felt a little less doofusly. When Jed started out with the same steps I had done
and then brought out the chisel, I began to feel normal. For me, anyway.
We
hadn’t seen each other in weeks. Maybe months. From our last little ride up to
visit a bunch of glampers in Buellton. While the engine cooled, we caught up
with each other. I helped him through the procedure while between steps he
handled a sale of an engine and transmission out of an old Ford Mustang. Well,
okay, I watched a lot and fetched an item or two.
While
we wrapped up and put tools and materials away, I asked him how much I owed
him. “Lunch”. Sue came home while we were moving the engine and transmission
out for the guy coming to buy them. She told us she had stuff to make lunch and
invited me to stay.
Fix-it
– done. Lunch – served. I owe them more than they can imagine. I thank them profusely and the only thing
they did was talk about joining me for the Ride to the Flags on Sunday.
Our
angels may not always be apparent and it may well be the only angel we have is
our own vigilance on the ride. So, ride safe and keep an eye out for angels and
hazards alike. And keep the iron side up.
Jerry
“Shakespeare” White.
