So, Cliff and I ended up coming home after church, eating a salad, and getting right back on the motorcycle. The Flylady has disowned me, but I don't care. I'd rather go riding. Cliff was still pretty tired from yesterday's long ride, and said we'd stay fairly close to home. When we somehow found ourselves in Oak Grove, a few miles away, I said, "Hey Cliff, we should go see Helen."
Cliff spent some of the best years of his life working at a small, family-owned butcher shop. His favorite person there was Helen, an older lady; she was almost like a mother, or at least an aunt, to him. She lives in Oak Grove.
The problem was, we didn't know where she lived, not really. We knew she was on the north side of the freeway, but that isn't enough.
"If we can find Tom at home, he'll know where she lives," I suggested.
Tom's dad was the original owner of the butcher shop, and after he retired, Tom ran it for awhile. Then Cliff worked for Tom's construction company for several years after the butcher shop closed. We keep in touch with him when we can, but he's seldom home. Today, as usual, his truck wasn't in his driveway when we cruised past his house.
However, he has rental property right up the road, and we soon spotted his very distinctive truck. There he was, moving big bales of hay with a 3020 John Deere tractor.
We both hugged him, chatted a bit, and got directions to Helen's house.
It was sad to see how frail she is now. She's 88 years old, a widow, and has to use a walker to get around. The only reason she isn't in a rest home is that her daughter is in the other side of the duplex where she resides.
She was so glad to see us, especially Cliff. Our visit made her day, and when we had to leave, she got teary-eyed.
Later, at home, Charlene and Pat showed up; they'd been riding too. Then our daughter and her husband came over. After a couple of hours of visiting, we all realized we were hungry... and I hadn't been home enough to cook today!
So where did we go? To the same Mexican place where we ate yesterday!
Come on, folks, we live in the boonies. Our only other option was McDonalds.
So, we walk into the Mexican place, and there sits Pastor Bob and his wife, from the church Cliff and I visited this morning!
He came over to say hello, and I asked him to tell the story of the Harley sitting inside his church.
A widow owned it. She just wanted it to somehow be used as a Christian witness, and Pastor Bob heard about it and went to see her. He looked it over, listened to her talk about it, and told her he was interested.
"How much are you willing to pay?" she asked him.
"I'm not going to price it," was Bob's reply. "You decide what you have to have for it and let me know."
She had other interested parties, but she ended up calling Pastor Bob, and told him, "I feel like you can be trusted; I'll give you the bike."
He puts it in shows sometimes, but the rest of the time it's at rest in the vestibule of his new church, with a Bible open on the seat.
It IS a 1942 Harley, but Cliff said it sure looks similar to the 1948 Harley that was his very first motorcycle.