Always be prepared, for anything. The winds of the spirit blow out of nowhere bringing a bolt of lightning. “Do think there’s anywhere to get baptized around here?” This is normally a question posed to the robed papacy in buildings with stained glass. The question bolted through my Bluetooth helmet communicator from my friend Robb while following him on county road 166 in the Davis mountains of Texas. You talk about a lot of things on motorcycle trips like the best oil to run, tall tales and are the steaks done? Baptisms? Not so much.
Not one for idle chit chat, Robb is a thoughtful, meticulous former club road racer so this was no “hold my beer” kind of proposal. Seeking to buy time, I offer a consultant’s accurate, yet unspecific reply of, “I’m sure there’s water around here somewhere.” For entertaining reasons covered in another story, Robb and I were the only two of ten riders who could communicate at the moment. What are the odds? Being a people pleaser and problem solver, I immediately start sorting out the ingredients for such a holy endeavor while avoiding deer and the occasional Jeep sized Jackrabbit on narrow 166.
Let’s see, Alpine is the nearest town with stoplights. Surely a church is there. Check. Full tub immersion was needed for a man of Robb’s faith, no sprinkler head would do. Probably a check. Pastor with credentials? “Hmm, who do I know?” Empty check box. Coming to my senses as we see a deer sprinting off to the left, I realize this choice is a deeply personal matter. Venturing the next logical question, not knowing if Robb was tire kicking or ready to buy the car, “Who did you have in mind to do your baptism?” His immediate reply of, “You” put this proposal into a completely different orbit. Does a man who shares Robb’s faith with a Texas motorcycle license endorsement qualify?
Rationalization is needed in moments like these. Applying the biker law of association, my faith to ride a Norton Commando with no brakes and officiating an earlier wedding ought to qualify me. Right? Nope. Robb asked in faith and that was the only thing that mattered. Check.
This is going to be a long sentence so stay with me. Another friend and I made a run at buying our local BMW dealer, losing out, but meeting one of the owners who retired to Study Butte in Big Bend where he and his wife CC attended a church in Terlingua who was so nice to us during a ride by drop in on a precious trip that as Facebook friends she came to mind as I’m still watching out for animals on 166. Surely, she would have a lead on where we could do this? With only tomorrow remaining on our trip, time was short. Basically, we needed a warm tub of water in a church pretty much tonight.
Sending her a Facebook message at the next stop, I wait to see how this hail Mary lands in the end zone. Nervous to see what happens, my mind starts churning, “What do I say?” “I Baptist thee in the name of Harley, BMW and Honda,” covering all the faiths? No matter how many times you’ve witnessed it, you get nervous when it’s you up front. As I looked around the room after we landed back at our home base in Alpine, I sensed a peace and grace that Robb would be among a fellowship who were his adopted family. Ours’ is an uncommon bond of love forged over a number of bike builds, trips and unconditional acceptance.
My iPhone buzzed. Wasting no time, CC told me that she had made contact with an Alpine church pastor who had already driven from home and was filling the baptismal. Being much larger than a Jacuzzi, these things take time. Preempting any concern, I may have had, she paused and said, “Don’t worry, he rides a Harley.” That was enough of a sign from the heavens for me. Swinging into action, our entire group mounted up with Robb and I packing for the holy waters and rode the few miles to the modest church on a hill. As promised, there stood the pastor beside his Harley Softail with fringed bags and everything. You just can’t make this stuff up folks.
Looking out from the warm water into the pews standing next to Robb, we were taken by the talent in our biker gang. One played the guitar, another read poignant scripture and all sang. I saw something else though in the pews beyond our small gathering. A chorus of angels were celebrating Robb’s faith and the brotherhood lifting him up along with the Harley riding pastor.
It has never been about the bike. It’s about faith and fellowship.