Praying the Bullet will start

 I had plenty of reasons to go to church Sunday. 

Besides my own hopes and prayers, the Sunday newspaper indicated that the whole world could use some praying for.

There was one big reason NOT to go to church. The weather report called for rain — even though the sun was shining.

I rode in the rain a lot, as a daily commuter. Even found it kind of fun. But in our old age, my 1999 Royal Enfield Bullet and I don't seek out opportunities to get wet.

The clouds were thick, but the sun was still relentless, so, at the last moment, with the clock ticking down, I decided to go for it.

The Bullet had been left to drain its sump, so that oil would have to be poured from the bucket beneath the motorcycle back into the oil tank. The Bullet would also have to be disconnected from its battery tender.

There was one other thing that needed doing but, in my rush, I neglected it.

Suited up and still hurrying, I switched on the ignition and lunged onto the kick starter.

Nothing.

I checked that the gas tap was on, and the kill switch set in "Run."

Again, nothing. The Bullet didn't even cough.

Worried, I checked my watch; and then I checked the motor. The spark plug wire was hanging loose; I had disconnected it to clean the plug awhile back, and forgotten to put the wire back on. I ruefully plugged it back on.

VRRrrooooom! This time, the Bullet roared to life on the first kick.

The resulting vibrations were the cue for the stalk of the rearview mirror to immediately lose its grip on the handlebar and swing uselessly forward.

Should I ride with a mirror swinging back and forth with every acceleration and deceleration, a disgrace, even if only I noticed its antics?

I hand-tightened the stalk as best I could, and carried on. The clock was really ticking down now.

As we rode towards church the Bullet and I were called to a halt at every red light. Wasn't the county saying it was going to "time" these things?

Somehow, we made it to church in time. I slung my jacket over the headlight nacelle, hoping it would keep rain — if it came — off the electrical wires within.

The sermon was a challenge to love our neighbors as ourselves. Or, if we couldn't manage to actually "love" annoying people, at least "respect" them, the priest suggested. Sort of a work-around.

It rained during the service, and I emerged to find the Bullet soaked. It was not in love with this treatment, and so it refused at first to start.

But, then, it did. At least one of my prayers had been answered.

World Peace may take awhile longer.