It's Not About the Bike

Gun's Quote:

"[But] take care not to perform righteous deeds in order that people may see them; otherwise, you will have no recompense from your heavenly Father."

-Matthew 6:1

Shortly after signing up for the MSF, I went to Missouri Boys State to volunteer as a Staff Member.

This year was unique for Boys State for many reasons, but one of them was because I had to help solve a problem that directly impacted one of our Staff Members. I'm not going to tell you what that was. For his privacy, (and the fact that it is not my story to tell) I will not expand upon the particulars of the situation. To be succinct, I helped a fellow Staff Member and friend through a personal situation. I ensured that only the people that needed to know what was going on knew what was going on. As a "thank you," he bought me a book: God, A Motorcycle and the Open Road, by Tim Riter.

I had told Boys State Staff members that I was considering a bike while I was there, so I had to giggle when the book showed up in the mail. At that point, I wasn't "committed."

The weekend after Boys State, it was time to take my MSF class.

I showed up, knowing nothing other than what I had seen on YouTube. I had never sat on a bike before. During the class, I sat on and learned the basics about riding a motorcycle. I had a blast! I passed the class with flying colors, and even got a perfect score on the written portion of the class. To be honest, it's a class I would recommend to pretty much anybody. This wasn't just a "motorcycle class;" it was a class that really helped you become a better driver, period.

Yet, after the class, I was an emotional wreck. It took me a long time to figure out why.

There was this extraordinary, weird juxtaposition of having fun, yet feeling guilty. The left-side of my brain was infuriated; "Why in the hell are you considering dropping money on this? This is a money pit!" The right side of my brain was imploring, "Life is short; go have fun." I was trying to justify going down the motorcycle path, and at the same time, I was trying to justify not going down the motorcycle path. I just wanted a direction; I didn't particularly care which one it was.

Fr. Vince said I had to start down a path to see if that path was for me, so that's exactly what I did. My expectation was that the MSF would "prove" to me that I should or shouldn't do this, one way or the other. That didn't happen. Did it teach me that I enjoyed it? Yes. Did it show me I could learn a new "trick?" Yes. Did it justify the money? No. Did it help me challenge my ANTs? Yes. So, with the ANTs challenged, was I done? No. There was so much more to learn. My curiosity spiked, rather than vice versa. That rabbit hole was deep, and I found myself wanting to know more about what was down there. That meant more money, more time and more potential in being disappointed if it didn't work out.

Thus, I was still on the fence. I still wasn't committed. I still didn't know if I should move forward or not, and I found that incredibly disappointing and disheartening. I wanted an answer, and I didn't get it.

Why was I doing this? Did I want to do this? What do I want? What am I doing?

A few days after that, I woke up and jumped in the shower, as per typical morning routine. Shower time is also reflection and prayer time, (don't judge) and I was contemplating the whole situation. None of this was making sense. What do I do?

While I know the following will just sound weird or make-believe by some of my readers, I must give witness to what happened as I experienced it. While standing there in the shower, thinking about all these things, I heard the still, small voice of God. He said:

"It's not about the bike."

Of course.

I flew out of the shower and ran in to my Family Room where I keep my prayer books. Sitting on top was the book that the Staff Member gave to me from Boys State. I threw it open, and I read.

And I read.

And I read.

What did I read? That this was about an experience. That experience would challenge me to grow again. It would challenge me to learn something new again. It would require me to be humble and ask for advice and help again. It would make me uncomfortable again. It would make me face my fears again. It would make me more childlike again, requiring me to experience something new with wonder and curiosity, not begrudgingly and cynically. It would require me to grow in patience with myself and others, and to cut out arrogance and stubbornness. It would require me to forgive myself when I messed up, and it would require me to forgive others when they mess up. It would require discipline. It would require "healthy" fear of real risks to life and limb. It would require working to mitigate those risks.

This wasn't about a bike. It has never been about a bike. It has been about defeating apathy and challenging the status quo. It was about sacrificing the mundane in order to be able to pursue greatness. It was about VIRTUE. Yes, it was about choosing a challenge that would require me to grow in virtue, so that those virtues could be applied to other areas of my life that were stale, stagnant and had plateaued.

Like my Depression. Like my tolerance for sin. Like my physical health. Like my work. Like my youth group.

Like my life.

The pieces were falling into place. Somehow, someway, this was starting to come together. The ANTs. Challenging the ANTs. Talking to my therapist. Talking to my priest. Taking the MSF. Reading a book that answered questions and revealed problems I didn't know I had. Was this happenstance? Was this coincidence?

Was this really going to happen?

This was about growing in Virtue. This wasn't about being a Depression victim, it was about becoming a Depression Victor.

This wasn't about a bike. It never was.

...and that's why it's a Gun's Quote!!