I've ridden motorcycles for years. I love to ride. After spending 7.5 years in prison, one of the things that I did as quickly as possible upon my release was to buy another motorcycle. It felt great to be back on the road with the wind on my face and two wheels underneath me. It seemed to all come back. They say you never forget how to ride a bike, and I took that to mean motorcycles as well as bicycles.
After riding for a couple of years without a license I decided to get legal. Even though I had had a motorcycle license for years before my incarceration, because of the way that the laws had changed I had to take a training course to get my license. I passed the course easily, and nothing changed with my riding other than I was finally legal. Still, despite all the riding I did and the refresher course, something felt off.
For some reason for the past 5 years or so I have felt uncomfortable on curves in a way that I don't remember ever feeling insecure in the years I rode before my almost decade long break from the road. I chalked the feeling up to having a bike that didn't handle as well as my old one, a windshield that acts a bit like a sail, and actually caring whether or not I live or die now. After my wreck a couple of years ago, the feeling grew worse. I once loved snaking back roads, but I had learned to dread them.
Yesterday, as I road home from work, I met another rider on a curve. He was flying and had his bike leaned over to the point where the pegs nearly scraped the pavement. We waved at each other as we met and continued on our way. A casual encounter that lasted only a second or two changed everything for me. I noticed his body position in the middle of that vicious curve. Suddenly I realized that I had been riding through those curves out of position, and that caused me to be and feel slightly off-balance. I rode in a position that logically seemed safer, but in reality was more dangerous and caused me to have to go much slower in curves in order to stay in my lane and on the road.
On the next curve, I shifted my body into the position that I had seen the other rider in. As I did, it felt so right. I thought, "How did I forget this? How come I never regained this habit in all these years I have been riding again?" I felt stable and secure. I entered the curve and felt the bike hug the road like my old bike did. I accelerated out of the curve and nearly shouted for joy. It felt so good to be back. The ride home was much more enjoyable and yet safer from that moment on. I felt a peace in turns that I haven't had in what seems like forever.
I once knew this little trick of body position to make curves safer, but when I stopped riding for a while I lost the habit. When I returned to riding I knew something wasn't right, but I was unable to diagnose the problem or remember on my own. The teaching I heard didn't help. The safety course didn't change anything. A brief encounter with another rider who was doing it right wordlessly corrected 5 years of incorrect body position and brought to remembrance truth I once knew but had forgotten.
We can be like that rider I met in the curve. We need to worry less about saying the right thing and instead just make sure that we go through our day in the correct spiritual position. We can inspire and help someone just by meeting them on the road of life. We might never know. But staying in position with God could help someone get back where they need to be, help them get to a place of security in God and, maybe, even save their life.
Abba, help me to stay in position with You. I never know when just passing by someone might be the encounter they need to help see the way to life and freedom in You. Amen.
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