The fundamental fact of existence is that this trust in God, this faith, is the firm foundation under everything that makes life worth living. It’s our handle on what we can’t see.
On Saturday, Dad and I went for a bike ride. It was a nice ride, to be sure, a lovely day to spend on two wheels. Partway through, we met up with a couple of other people we knew. One of them is a big guy, the kind of guy you meet biking sometimes: Sculpted cyclist legs, extremely well-padded up top (so to speak). Because it was a warm day, he had his jersey unzipped all the way, exposing his not inconsiderable chest. (Personally, I only very rarely unzip my jerseys, because of a couple unhappy bee incidents that you may remember me blogged about, here and here.)
That aside, we’re riding along and it’s hot. On hot days, school teams often have fund-raising car washes. Whenever we ride by, they inevitably shout, “Bike wash! We’ll wash your bike!” As if I’d trust my sealed bearings to their tender ministrations! Anyway, as we rode into Monroe, we passed a boys’ lacrosse team’s car wash.
Of course, the boys shouted: “Bike wash!” Ho, hum. Then they shouted again: “We’ll wash your chest!”
The big guy behind me said: “Did they just offer to WASH MY CHEST?!”
I laughed and said: “Better yours than mine!”
I’m sure those high school boys would’ve preferred to wash my chest, but yes, I’m pretty sure they were offering to wash the big guy. Anyway, that has got to be the oddest thing anybody’s shouted at us in a long time.