Curiosity Factor

Memories from my childhood often flood back to me when I'm out riding. Not memories of myself riding , but memories of seeing others riding and wishing it was me. Years, if not decades, of pining away for what it must be like to fire up a bike, slip on a helmet (always) and click through the gears elluded me. Now I am the one who is blessed with the opportunity. Now, it is the other people (usually guys) checking out the bike with a longing sort of look in their eye.

Every motorcyclist deals with it -- the Curiosity Factor. Riding a motorcycle is like wearing a big sign that reads: Spontaneously Talk To Me, I LOVE Strangers. Other people who ride motorcycles generally, for some strange reason, want you to know they themselves ride as well. So they often begin spontaneous conversations with something like, "Hey, how do you like your bike?" You respond with "Great..." and then they pause, in anticipation of your next question... "You ride?" If you don't ask, it appears downright rude, as if we have some kind of unwritten code of motorcycle brotherhood. So you obligatorily ask... and we're off to the races... tales of "how I used to ride" or "Yeah, but not a bike like that one..." Yada, yada, yada...

As it was in my childhood, there is just something about the whole experience of motorcycling that seems attractive beyond words and for some little guys (and some not so "little" guys) they can't seem to get enough of it until they "touch" it. There have been far too many (for my own comfort) occasions when I've come back to my bike after being away from it in a public place and I've found "greasy kid prints" somewhere on my blessed machine. Among riders, there is a code of ethic (in that same unwritten book that if someone asks about your bike, you are obligated to ask if they ride) that you don't touch another person's bike unless they offer or you ask if you can. People lean up against a stranger's car and think nothing of it, but one doesn't touch a stranger's bike. Ever! And if you do choose to touch it, the owner knows about it. It's motorcycle "Touch-dar" (similar to radar)... we leave our bikes and we can "feel" if someone else has touched it. It is a sixth-sense kind of thing. If you don't ride, I don't expect you to understand it, if you do ride, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

Today, though the winter temperatures hovered only near 40 degrees, it was just too nice a day to keep the bike in the garage. I found an excuse to ride to a store about 20 miles away and bundled up for the ride. As usual, there was beauty, fun and fascination in the same route I've traveled countless times. Arriving at the store (one of the large warehouse variety), it seemed I was in for a heavily "curious" day.

Parking close to the entrance (motorcyclists are always inventing new places to park) under a large porte-cache, I had two head bobs (guys silently acknowledging your presence, so their girlfriend/wife doesn't hear -- which would likely bring up the continuing argument of wanting a bike under her protest) and I received a verbal walk-by "nice bike." That's fairly typical.

You know, I feel most sorry for the guys who just look at you with those longing "puppy dog" eyes. They don't need to say anything because I know that look all too well. It is the "My Wife Won't Let Me Have a Bike" look. If I've seen it once, I've seen it a million times. It is just downright sad to see a grown man pout as you walk by in your leathers with helmet (always) in hand. It makes me all the more thankful for my sweet wife who puts up with this two-wheeled obsession.

Appreciating the usual acknowledgments and after making it into the store, while standing in the customer service line for a moment I should have seen the little guy coming. He must have been no more than five years old, still holding on to that unabashed childish curiosity we're born with. Walking right up to me gawking look in his eye, he decided he just had to touch my helmet! Before I knew it, I had ketchup coated, post-hotdog hands all over my face shield. Amazed his parents hadn't held him off at the pass, I gently rebuffed the little guy and looked for his parent's intercession. Once again, I chalked it up to the Curiosity Factor.

"Napkin, please!"

Continuing my shopping (while on a bike spending is necessarily curtailed by limited cargo space -- always a good thing), the checkout clerk just had to ask what kind of bike I ride. Breaking the code, I simply told him. I didn't bother to ask if he rode. After all, he was busy and the lines were long enough as it was. If a "bike" conversation had ensued, we could be there for who knows how long!

"Customers waiting!"

Returning to my bike, "Touch-dar" indicating no intruders, a store employee standing outside for a smoke said in her nicotine laced voice, "I kept an eye on it for you." "Thanks!" was my reply. "Is that thing fast?" she inquired. "Yep. Pretty fast," came my reply.

Pulling my gloves on as the bike continued to rewarm itself in the now rapidly cooling evening air, the puffing store employee finished her smoke and made her way toward me. Breaking into my physical airspace, she patted me on the shoulder on her way by. No more words spoken, just an apparent social nuance -- an expression of concern perhaps -- that I'd be okay out there. Another symptom of the Curiosity Factor, I presume. I don't normally get touched by store employees, but when you're a motorcyclist, I guess that's okay.

All of this to say, there are times I wish my faith in Jesus Christ drew the same kind of attention that riding motorcycles does. Not that I love little kids putting their grimy hands on my helmet, or touching my bike or that, frankly, I even enjoy conversing with every single stranger who speaks to me about riding, but if my faith generated the same levels of the Curiosity Factor that riding does, wouldn't my faith take on a whole new meaning and expression?

If more people knew how great motorcycling really is, there would simply be more riders and fewer people who wished they were. If more people knew how great life in Jesus Christ really is, maybe there would be more followers and fewer who have no idea what they are missing!

"In the same way, let your light shine before men..."
Matt. 5:16