Episode 78: The Ride That Found Its Purpose: A Sunday Journey
Do you ever feel the need to just turn off the world for a while, get out of the house, get out on your motorcycle, to find yourself out on a lonely road and just ride… you know the feeling? I’m convinced that sometimes a ride like that can transform itself into a chance encounter where your presence on your bike was absolutely essential. Like the stars were aligned for something special, something meaningful, to happen. Maybe it's a calling for a mission that needs to be fulfilled, by you. Yeah, it can happen. It happened to me. I’d like to tell you about it. Thank you for joining me today.
OPENING MUSIC
It was Sunday morning, but I just didn’t feel like going to church. I don’t know why. My wife and I have loved attending this small church for many years in our hometown of Loveland, Colorado. That’s where we see many of our closest friends. It’s where we sing and feel a sense of belonging. It’s where people ask how we are doing and genuinely want to know.
But this particular Sunday morning, I didn’t want to go. I wanted to go out on my motorcycle. To ride somewhere. Anywhere. Yeah, I get like that sometimes. Maybe you do too. My wife, God bless her, knows my quirks. She said “I’ll go on to church and see ya later”. As always, she asked “Where are you going”? I said I didn’t know. She said “OK. Be careful”. Yeah, after almost 40 years together, she knows me. I love her.
Yeah, there was a feeling of guilt. Missing a Sunday morning at church sometimes meant not seeing some of my closest friends for another week. Missing the opportunity to welcome a first time visitor. As you may know, I’m the guy who loves to talk with strangers, asking the unexpecting visitor “Hey, what do you do for fun?”, hoping of course that someone will say “I ride a motorcycle.” and occasionally, they do! Score! Yeah, I’m a one man welcoming committee. But not this Sunday. I just wanted to ride. I needed to ride. The urge was strong to get out of town, on to the road, into the wind.
NEW MUSIC
I left home going north, climbed the road that ascends over Horsetooth Reservoir. Strange name, I know, but when you see the namesake rock formation, you’ll say, yep, that looks like the teeth of a horse! The reservoir is deep and long. Steep canyon walls on all sides surrounding clear, clean, very cold water. Water’s who source is snowmelt from the high rocky mountains and the Continental Divide just to the west. This road is spectacular!
I connected to Highway 287 just north of Fort Collins. Headed North. I have ridden this stretch of road hundreds of times. It’s my go to place if I’m not in the mood for the twisty deep river canyons that require my full attention. Out here on these more straight roads, it’s like flying. Very little traffic on a road with slow bends that lets you cruise comfortably at 70 to 75 miles an hour. On my bike, this is where I change the setup from Dynamic mode to Road mode. A very soft suspension setup. Amazingly smooth. The boxer engine is very happy in 6th gear at about 75. It hums. To me it sounds like an airplane engine. Not a jet engine, the propeller kind.
Rock formations in this area resemble Monument Valley in Southern Utah. When my son’s mother and father-in-law from the hills of New Hampshire come out to visit, this is the road they love to drive. Clear, mostly straight, surrounded by distant mountains, peaceful. You just set the cruise control and completely relax.
So with my wife and my friends in the church service, I rode, alone. No crosswinds today. Cruise control set, just taking in what’s in front of me and my bike.
MUSIC
I stopped as usual at The Forks. Only about 30 miles from my home, but a totally different state of mind out here. It’s a very historic building, originally a stage stop for pioneers going west on what was called the Overland Trail. Today, still with its large porch and old fashioned grocery store on the main level, upstairs now is a nice restaurant serving homemade meals.
But it’s the porch that I’m most attracted to, especially on sunny warm days. Already full of coffee from home, I skipped getting my vanilla latte from Jeanette who works as both the cashier and the barista, and instead, grabbed a very unhealthy but really tasty Coke-a-Cola and a Zero candy bar. I jokingly say “hey this is health food in some countries!”. Took them both to the porch, sipped and ate while the day warmed up even more, all the while waiting for some stranger to step up on the porch and ask about my bike or where I was riding from or to. None did. I checked my phone. No calls or texts. Somewhat satisfied with the idea that I’m not needed today, I got back on my bike, rejoined highway 287, accelerating quickly to 75 or so, which felt like 3 seconds of raw horsepower, turned the cruise control back on, and chilled. All was well with the world. On the verge of the all elusive Peace of Mind, but for some reason, not quite there. Almost like a feeling of loneliness, which for me is weird.
MUSIC
A car with the hood up was up ahead. I slowed a little, edged my bike more to the left, toward the centerline of the highway. If there was a person in the car, I wanted to give them enough room. In the fraction of a second that it took to pass the car, I saw a figure standing in front of that open hood. Someone looking at the engine while holding a phone.
Being a Mister Conversation with strangers, maybe Mister Helpful too, I checked my mirrors, hit the brakes, did a u-turn, to come up behind the stranded car. “Her” car as it turns out. Turning on the warning flashers on my bike, I pulled off my helmet and walked to the front of the car where a 20 something young lady set her phone down and said hi. I could tell that she had been crying.
She apologized for the tears, saying she felt a bit stranded. She said her car engine started losing power as she climbed that hill. This spot was where Colorado crests the rise to then start a descent into Wyoming. She said that it would run, but she couldn’t keep it at highway speed. I took a look. Nothing obvious. I asked her to start it up. It started right up. Again, nothing obvious. She said that it sounded much smoother than it did minutes before.
She went on to say that I was actually the second person to stop. Minutes before, a guy in a pickup truck stopped. She pretended to be talking with someone on the phone and told that guy that she was fine. Help was on it’s way. So he left. She told me that that was a lie. She didn’t have anyone on the phone. No service here. But she said “Then you rode up on a motorcycle instead of a car. For some reason I felt more safe.” Nice to hear….
MUSIC
She said that she had come from Fort Collins, on her way to work as a waitress in Laramie, Wyoming, some 40 more miles ahead. Honestly, there’s not much between Fort Collins and Laramie. You can find gasoline, an awesome latte and the basics back at The Forks, but north of there, nada. No gas stations, nothing but an open road until you reach Laramie. She said that rather than try to make it on to Laramie, she’d prefer to get back to The Forks if she could. Good cell phone service there and that’s where some of her family could meet her for help.
I suggested we give her car a try. If it keeps running, turn around and head back to The Forks. I said that I would follow on my bike with my flashers on and suggested that she stay near the shoulder of the road. She thought it was a good idea too, so off we went.
No apparent issues with the engine at all now. She cruised along, just a little bit under the speed limit. We reached The Forks in about 15 minutes. We agreed that, even though her car was now appearing to run fine, it was a good idea not to proceed today. She told me that while driving and coming back into cell phone service, she reached her mom. Her mother and her mechanic friend were on their way to meet us at The Forks.
Well, now that I was back at The Forks and Jenette the barista said “Ron, you’re back!”, I offered to buy her a fancy coffee while she waited. She said sure and opted for a latte. Being my drink of choice, I got one for myself too. When our drinks were ready, I said “Hey I’ll give you your space, so I’ll go sit at the table around the corner.” She said “No, I would like to talk with you”. Wow, that was a nice surprise.
It’s amazing how that conversation went. Such a natural conversation. Strangers no more. She shared how she was going to school part time at the University in Laramie. Usually stayed other days with her mom in Fort Collins. She also shared how she had struggled with depression sometimes.
I felt it was a good time to tell her about my morning. How I didn’t feel like going to church, but rather, the urge to go for a ride. A chance to be alone, or talk with a stranger. Whichever and whenever, but I wanted to be out on my bike that morning. I told her about my wife who understood that sometimes I just need a ride to right things in the world. She said that she was glad that God brought me to the rescue. I said that it was not so much as a rescue, but rather maybe a couple of strangers who needed a conversation.
Moments later, she looked across the parking lot and said “There’s my mom” as a car drove up. A lady, maybe in her mid-forties, walked straight up to me and said “You must be Ron”, then she gave me a hug without even asking. That was wonderful. The girl said that she had been talking with her mom in the car as soon as she got cell phone service again. Her mom thanked me for stopping to check on her daughter. I told them both how much I appreciated the conversation. Maybe the right place at the right time.
A couple of weeks later, on a Sunday following the church service, I told the pastor of our church, Scott, about that experience. How I didn’t feel like going to church that morning and how maybe God put me in a different place that Sunday morning for a reason. Scott said that he’s had the same experiences. Even as the pastor of a church, he didn’t always feel the urge to be there. Rather to be out, alone for a while, but open to whatever encounter that God had planned for me.
I guess that’s the key word. A plan. Someone’s plan.
I was given a motorcycle as a child. It’s given me confidence, self-reliance, … Riding certainly more joy that I can try to describe. Maybe it’s those chance encounters, though, that’s most important. Like that young lady said, she trusted me because I approached her from my motorcycle. She felt that I was safe. I’m so grateful for being an approachable motorcycle rider, aren’t you? It’s my nature. Maybe it’s yours too. If you really feel like you need a ride, maybe you should go. Someone may be waiting for someone like you.
Music by folk_acoustic from Pixabay
John Tramp from Pixabay
chill_background from Pixabay
Dvir Silver from Pixabay
Gary Schmidt Music: https://www.garyschmidtmusic.com/
