What if motorcycles could talk? I have two motorcycles—an old one that doesn’t get ridden much anymore and a newer one. If they’d had a conversation yesterday evening, here is what they might have said:

Old motorcycle: “Wow! You sure are muddy. What happened?”

New motorcycle: “We went out to a village about 25 miles from here for the Thirteenth Sabbath church meetings. In the afternoon, the other vehicles and I noticed storm clouds building. Pretty soon it started raining, and all the people packed into the church building, leaving us outside to get wet.

However, soon people started coming back out of the building sweating profusely. I guess it was hot in there, and it was more comfortable to be outside in the rain!

After the meeting ended, everyone came out and got ready to leave. Suzy put on her jeans, rain pants and raincoat, and Patient put on the backpack and climbed on behind Suzy. All the vehicles headed off down the narrow trail, but we hadn’t even gotten 200 feet before many of them started turning around because the storm had made the trail so treacherous. Suzy kept driving me down the trail, which had become more like a river. I’m glad my tires still have good knobbies. Sometimes the water was clear up to the middle of my wheels, but I did my best, and we kept slogging for more than an hour and a half. I slipped and slid, and we almost fell a few times, but Suzy managed to keep me upright. She commented that her hands and arms were cramping from holding my handlebars so tightly. 

On my back seat, poor Patient in her thin skirt was very cold by the time we got into town. But we warmed up a little every time we splashed through a puddle, because the hot ground heated the water.”

Old motorcycle: “Wow! What an adventure! Did I ever tell you about the time Suzy and I were in a major rainstorm, and God saved our lives?”

New motorcycle: “No. Tell me about it!”

Old motorcycle: “Well, it was a cloudy day and I was carrying Suzy and a brother from the church to a village about 30 miles from town. I had a big bag of brochures on my rack. Suzy was driving, and the brother was on the back. A little way out of town we saw rain ahead, so Suzy and the man put on their raincoats and tried to cover the brochures. We headed off again into the rain. The downpour got heavier. Then, up ahead, we saw what looked like a solid wall of rain! We stopped for a moment, and then Suzy decided we had no choice but to drive into it. Rain beat down on us so hard, Suzy must have been driving more by feel then by sight. We continued on until we got to a village, and my riders decided to get shelter from the rain in a little concrete pavilion. Suzy had just pulled me off the road when a big truck came racing by in the other direction. If we had still been on the road in that blinding downpour, the truck driver never would have seen us, and we would be no more. Suzy and the man were praising God for protecting them.”

New motorcycle: “Amazing! God surely did protect you. Thanks for that great story. I’m really tired, and there will be more adventures tomorrow, so good night!”

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