my ride home last night

I don't know about you, but I have only ridden on a motorcycle once...UNTIL LAST NIGHT. When I was 11 years old, I started my first "job." I would iron clothes for some close friends of my family, the Robersons. I had that job for about 10 years, until I went off to college. (Their daughter, Kelly, and their granddaughter, Leigh, are the ones that I stayed with in Charlotte and gave me "The Barbarian Way" book.) Until this year, I hadn't seen any of them for about 4 or 5 years. Mrs. Roberson has had some health problems and hasn't been able to get around very well recently. At the end of last week, my mom called to check on how she has been doing. She asked if there was anything we could do to help her. Mrs. Roberson said she had a bunch of laundry that needed to be done. My mom volunteered me to iron for her. I didn't mind. It is always nice to see them and help out, as well as get some extra money. My dad dropped me off after work, and my brother, Ricky, was going to pick me up after night classes at Greenville Tech. Well, Ricky met up with some friends at a coffee shop he stopped at after class and totally forgot to pick me up. When he got home, he said that he and his friends had an awesome discussion at the coffee shop about the sovereignty of God even through our mistakes and short comings. He didn't realize at the time that God was going to test him on that as soon as he headed home. I was waiting for Ricky and calling him, but got no answer. After a while of waiting, Mr. Roberson suggested that he could take me home. I felt bad about making him go all the way out 20 minutes one way if my brother could be near by...but he didn't feel bad. He said later he had been waiting for me to give up on calling Ricky and want a ride home. I finally did decided to have him take me home.
He gave me four options for my ride home. I picked his first option...his Harley Davidson. This isn't a picture of the kind of bike he has. He has one with two seats and a storage space in the back. It's an amazing bike. He got me all decked out with boots, coat, and helmet...and we headed home. It was a perfect night for a ride. It was probably in the low 70's or upper 60's. He told me that his 17 year old granddaughter, Leigh, and him took a 1,000 mile trip last summer on his bike, and they are planning another for this summer. They don't know where they are going yet though. I knew when I got home that my mom would be jealous. My mom's dream is for her and my dad to ride across America on a bike and sidecar. When she heard us driving up, she said to my dad, "He drove her home on his motorcycle!!!!" She had to come out and see it. Ricky did get home then and felt so bad. Mr. Roberson didn't. He was just glad about a good excuss to take a ride on his bike. Ricky told us about his talk about the sovereignty of God. He said he couldn't figure out how it was going to work out good since I sat their for about an hour. I pointed to the Harley and said, "This is how it turned out good." Mr. Roberson and I were glad that Ricky had forgotten to pick me up.