I had heard the sermon on at least two occassions. My pastor came from a large (and I mean large, < Brady Bunch) family. So many I can’t recall the number. Enough that, were they chickens, you’d not know who was who when you ate one. This is my daughter’s formula, by the way, for how she’s eventually going to eat her pets. Right now the chickens have names. Not the strategy for eating. I digress. My pastor’s large family matters because his dad was a pastor, and pastors generally don’t have income to spare for extras. In my pastor’s case, a bicycle. He was given a bike of his own when he was six years old. The perfect age.

It was a dead kid’s bike.

If you think that didn’t get six-year-old Jonathan thinking about his mortality as he swung his leg over the seat, you’d be wrong. That bike drove my pastor straight into the arms of Jesus. You know, like a Tesla. Fear is rarely a motivator for good, except when we’re talking hell. Then it’s capital. The grieving family who no longer had use for their son’s bicycle had no idea their gift would be a fire hose dose of fear for another little boy. Jonathon thought, if that kid can die, so can I. This is a point often missed by children and adults alike. My own 21-year-old is about to embark on a cliff diving expedition to Puerto Rico, alone. He explained it’s not dangerous because he’s immortal. I’m sure he never watched 127 Hours or read “Survivor Type” by King.

I should have found him a dead kid’s bike long ago.

If the bike story doesn’t preach, I don’t know what does. I had it in my head as I was given a prompt for another anthology about possessed objects. And I thought, what if… and then I wrote and revised and was rejected and wrote some more, revised more, was rejected more. And then it found a home. “Somebody Else’s Bike” includes snippets of a wonderful logging poem I found and has a lyrical quality I hope to recreate in the future. I shared about obtaining permission to use the poem here. Apart from the original inspiration, nothing else about the story is based on my pastor. The main character, my girl August, is gritty and irreverent, just like me before my own run-in with Jesus.

I hope you like the story and the story behind the story. You can find it here.