A Bicycling Parable

God. You know the dude. He really tests you at times, and today was one of those times for me. He’s got a pretty good his sense of humor, too. Now, I’m a big practical joker myself, a trait I inherited from the Pfaff side of the family. I forgot that God is part Pfaff.

First, just to let you know, I am not what you would call a “regular” church go’er, and this blog is not going to be a sermon, but it is a good lesson. Have you ever heard the story of Job? He’s the guy God and Satan made a bet over, to see what it would take for him to take the Lord’s name in vain. Man, they threw everything at that guy except for the kitchen sink, and he still stuck with God. And he was rewarded. The moral of the story; stay on God’s course and everything will turn out well. When you are being tested it’s pretty hard to follow that advice.

Here’s the prologue: Last night Christa called and asked whether I could be in Saginaw by 3:30 on Thursday. I told her no problem, and I may even beat her there. But I forgot God was listening. Dang. And He said, “Ho, Ho. Confidence breeds overconfidence.” And the next day’s destiny was written.

Thursday: My phone rang at 7:00am. It was Hawkeye, and he gave me an excuse for not sticking around and getting his picture in front of the Capitol with Rufus and me (something about “going home sick”.) He asked me to have breakfast with him in the House of Representatives office building, which meant a 10 mile round trip back into downtown Lansing instead of heading north. “Could you be here at 8:30am?” What would you do? Call it delay #1.

So I got to the office building at 8:25am and we went to breakfast at a House Office Building with a big, funky pedestrian walkway. The cafeteria was right next to the entrance and it was practically empty, so I walked my bike inside and placed it in an isolated corner. We were in the breakfast line, talking with a State Representative about my bike trip, when a security guard instructed me to remove the cycle, by orders of his superior. I pleaded my case; “It’s 40 degrees and gusting, my bike is 70 pounds and it can’t fit in the bike racks with the large packs on it; all of my belongings including my computer are on it; you can hardly see it backed in behind the ATM machine.” The supervisor’s reply (in a nasal voice) “Bike’s are not allowed in the building, no exceptions.” As I struggled in freezing temperatures to lock my bicycle to a light post, thoughts of “What a weenie” ran through my mind. But I returned to have a large stack of pancakes with Hawkeye. Call it a warm up hassle. A sign of things to come.

We didn’t find out Hawkeye’s real name was Jim Stansell until we knew him for five years. He’s the last remnant of the rock and poll era; a long haired, REO Speedwagon roadie. This picture shows the new, domesticated Hawkeye. His daughter Caitlyn is graduating from Okemos and going to Purdue, and my daughter Andrea is graduating from Gaylord and going to Northern. We concluded their success must have been the result of a strong paternal influence.

A lobbyist introduced us to Kevin Elsenheimer, our State Representative, as he passed by and he promised to make a contribution to the Kyle Casey Memorial Scholarship Fund. (See May postings.) The lobbyist who introduced us took our photograph, but you know how those lobbyists are, the picture didn’t turn out.

After breakfast I plodded north directly into a 25mph wind, in 40 degree weather. If you have never experienced this before, there is NO WAY to describe it. I shook my fist and yelled in vain “STOP! PLEEEEASE STOP!” but the wind blew on. When I had a pit stop in Dewitt (don’t forget I backtracked through all the pitted streets of Lansing), one of my rear spokes was busted – AGAIN! Call it Test #1.

The convenience store dudes knew there were bicycle shops in East Lansing (10 miles backward) and I found one on the internet in Owosso (30 miles forward.) My decision, go back and make a 20 mile round trip to get back where I was, or to try and make it to Owosso on a broken spoke. Remember what I told Chirsta……… So I called the House of Wheels bike shop in Owosso and told them I’d be there about 2:00, and I called Christa and told her I still might be in time to see my niece Lauren play in the Hemlock High Soccer game.

People who know me call me an optimist, but as I forced myself against the wind, looking out for every big crack in the road and praying other spokes would hold on, it was pretty difficult to use the power of positive thinking. Then I figured it out – Ah, ha! I’m being tested! Good one, God! You caught me getting a little cocky. Fair and square. You got me.” And man, I felt a ton better after I figured that out. The wind seemed to slow down, my bike was riding pretty good, and I even got to ride on a freshly paved road in a construction area that wasn’t open for traffic yet.

Just as I entered Owosso, my bike suddenly slammed to a halt. The back derailer had blown up into a mangled mess. NOOOOOO! Test #2, wouldn’t you say. I thought I had it all figured out, but you never really do, do you? That was pretty tricky, God, kind of like something like Uncle Norm would think of doing. What could I do? I walked the 2 ½ miles to House of Wheels, whistling along the way, discovered they did not carry a replacement derailer, and the nearest store that did was in Saginaw.

God has a plan, doesn’t he? He wouldn't just mess with such a nice guy like me without coming through in the clutch, would he? No, it all worked out just fine.

Christa was in Saginaw, visiting Cliff and Julie after a Meier and Associates Advisory Board Meeting. I requested and she heartily agreed to buy the bike part in Saginaw, drive it down to Owosso, and bring me back for a nice evening at Cliff’s place. Julie and Cliff both offered to drive me to Owosso Friday morning to continue my trek. Plans looked pretty dang good again. Then a recumbent cyclist named Bob Flinn bought me a double whooper and large flurry at McDonalds waiting for Christa. He was wearing bright bicycle jersey and looked a little devilish with his mustache and goatee, kind of like mine. Hmmmmm. Does that mean something? Christa mistook him for me when she stopped in the drive through to pick me up.

The evening ended up in a plethora of joy, having a great dinner and sharing stories with Cliff and Julie, Clifford and his beau Sara, Lauren, and Christa. Christa had to return home because Gerta’s Draperies is busy, busy, busy. We watched the Red Wings playoff game, Pistons Playoff game and Tigers game all night, and I thought, this is what heaven is like. Then I thought, there must be a lesson in this day. Right, Job?

Note: I just use the pronoun "he" for God for literary purposes. I'm not trying to start a gender war.

Second note: I might not be exactly right about the story f Job, but my brother Joe verified I was on the right track. Forgive me if the details aren't totally correct....

Other note: So far, even with this little "setback", my bike trip has lasted 2,225 miles. I'm riding today but will take my first day off tomorrow to play golf at The Dream in West Branch. Oh, yeah.