A Good Ride

May 26, 2015

Today's post is a bit late. The evening was spent not at home writing, but on the road to Annual Conference. Yep, you heard it correctly; I am back at Annual Conference. A couple weeks ago, when talking with a fellow clergyman, somehow the subject came up, to which he responded, "You're retired! Why are you going to Annual Conference? Are you crazy?" For those unfamiliar with the term 'Annual Conference,' it is the once-yearly meeting of pastors and laity for we United Methodists, where business is conducted, new pastors are voted in, retired are voted out, resolutions and budgets are passed (or not), and worship is offered. Except for the preaching of our bishop, which is the best I've ever heard from a bishop, much of it, in spite of valiant efforts to the contrary, is bureaucratic, and therefore (in my humble opinion) dreadfully boring. So my friend's question had a certain level of relevance.

My answer apparently wasn't very impressive. "Pastor Joe asked if I would ride motorcycle with him."

"Are you crazy?" He was maddeningly fixated upon that question.

"I must be," was the only response I could think of that would end the interrogation while being somewhat close to the truth. Thus, my being on the road for four and a half hours. The trip to Syracuse normally doesn't take quite that long, but I'm riding the Ural, which doesn't like speeds much above 55. When I say, "doesn't like," I mean at prolonged high speeds parts can begin to fall off, or the engine can begin to internally disintegrate. So we poked along at 55, with semis and other vehicles whizzing by us. It was actually quite a pleasant ride. By the time we got to Rochester, it was dark, and the Thruway was pretty traffic-free. The evening air was warm, and occasionally the sweet fragrance of locust blossoms wafted across my face.

I was, and am grateful for the incredible life I've been given, with the freedom to ride, and a motorcycle that can carry two full toolboxes, a suitcase, backpack, and duffle bag, besides various other tools and equipment. (Joe's brother rode two up with him to Rochester, while I carried his tools and gear) Sidecars are one of God's gifts to mankind! Or maybe just to me.