I heard the rumble and knew instinctively what was about to pull up beside us. The echos of Easy Rider reverberated through the hot breath of a South Alabama July morning as the midnight chrome Harley came slowly to a stop and waited for the light to change. For a few brief seconds, my eyes scanned the growling mechanical beast a few feet away. The sound effects alone stirred something in my soul, a brief pang of jealousy, perhaps at the freedom and power trumpeted by the resonating rumblings of this two-wheeled symbol of American bravado.
For those too young to remember, Easy Rider was a 1969 American classic film about two Harley-Davidson riding hippies who traveled America. What stories could this Rider tell? Dare I ask? Where had he been? Heaven only knows. Where was he going? I didn’t know but instinctively thought “don’t get in his way.”
Straddled across this iron horse sat a man who exuded a bad-boy cool masculinity. With his hard steel helmet, grey beard, foot-long pony-tail, and arms bereft of space for more tattoos, this dude wore a gray t-shirt, a black vest, a faded pair of jeans, and military-style boots that had kicked in too many doors. Just about what you’d expect from someone riding a mobile monster that sounded like a foretaste of Armageddon. Let’s just say that if I were in a fight, I’d want this guy on my side.
With a slight twist of his hand, the engine signaled the power about to be unleashed. I didn’t need to watch the light; this lone wolf beside me would make it clear to everyone in South Alabama when it turned green.
I was tempted to roll down my window and offer a “nice bike” comment but feared the response I might get. Besides, who knows what biker gang of desperados might this solitary non-conformist belong?
As he accelerated away, my eyes briefly caught a glimpse of the circle insignia on the backside of his black leather vest. Too fast to catch the name of his gang, I only saw a few bold letters. II PETER 3:9.
What was that?
Was this biker a believer?
My wife quickly looked up the verse.
“The Lord is not slow about His promise, as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing for any to perish but for all to come to repentance.”
Believers come in all shapes, sizes, and sounds. Even at a stoplight in Dothan, Alabama, a man can be reminded of God’s patience by a HOG-riding born-again biker.
Who knew the sounds of heaven were VROOM, VROOM?
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