Thelma has yet to disappoint me. For those who are not aware of a major part of my life, Thelma is my scooter. She is also an instrument of evangelism and spreading Christ's love to others, which is why I have committed to love her. As a result, yesterday I made the difficult decision to retire her for the winter, selflessly surrendering the joy and adventure that she could have provided, and deciding instead to bring her into the safety and comfort of my apartment to rest up for the big summer we have ahead of us, Lord willing. Before her hibernation, though, she did a few things that blew me away one last time.
On December 2, I took Thelma out because she was begging get out and stretch a little. so I ran her over to the Desiring God headquarters, which delighted both rider and scooter alike. I put her up again, waiting for another sunny day when she may want to run around. I would say hi to her and ask her how she was doing whenever I would walk past her (seriously), and I would sometimes start her, just to warm her up and keep her battery charged. If it would snow, I would brush the snow off of her and make sure her engine wasn't buried at all.
But then came this weekend, when the Minneapolis area received 17 inches of snow.
On Sunday I was shoveling for my landlord as all of my neighbors were digging themselves out of their houses. When paths were dug to the doors and cars, I took to the task of rescuing thelma. She was up to her handlebars in a snow drift. I frantically shoveled around her until her engine was clear and hopefully inserted her key and pressed the start button. I was expecting silence, but she gave a few quiet coughs! (my heart rate is definitely picking up as I'm recalling this) I dropped to my knees and began furiously clearing snow and wildly kicking a path to the alleyway where I could set her up. I put her kickstand up and began tugging on the back of her frame, falling and rising again and again, getting closer and closer to the freedom of the alley. Finally I broke through the last bit of packed snow and quickly set her up on her stand, pained that I ever let her get so buried.
I put her key in the ignition one more time and, holding my breath, pressed the starter button. She gave a few more quiet coughs. I held down the starter, audibly encouraging her to turn over. Finally, her coughs grew into a faint, steady combustion of 49 unwavering cc's of loving service. I began laughing very hard and jumping and spinning in the air. When other people's garaged motorcycles had died months earlier, my little Thelma was giving it all she had, and never coming up short.
I held Thelma as she rolled under her own strength to gain some energy. I could tell she was itching to explore this winter wonderland. I spread salt on the sidewalks, glancing back at her as her headlights shone brighter and the color began returning to her. When I was finished, I gently sat in the Honda embossed seat and rocked her forward, off of her stand. I applied a little gas. She died. That's normal. I started her up again and was slower with the turning of the throttle. This time she was ready to react, and let me know she was ready to really go. This was the first time for either of us on snow, so it wasn't very coordinated looking. I decided to get comfortable with a few runs. I did wipe out quickly at the beginning in my parking lot, but I took the damage and protected her. After a few runs in the alley, she and I both began eyeing a snowbank at the end of the alley that opened up into the street. I nursed the throttle until we were going as fast as I could in the back alley, with both feet planted for stability. As we approached the snowbank, neighbors began to stop shoveling to see what this lunatic on the scooter was doing. Just then, I blasted through the snowbank in a flurry of snow into the wide open expanse of the street! I unintentionally spun around two complete rotations before beginning my haphazard careening down the street, with shovelers stopping their work to cheer and holler. (I'm not making any of this up) I zoomed around the neighborhood for a few minutes before doing a few more tight circles and powering through the snowbank one more time, back into my alleyway.
It was at this point that I decided there could not be a better way to end the riding season with Thelma. I quickly laid some towels out in my apartment and propped the doors open. I lifted Thelma up the stairs into the building and carefully guided her down the stairs into my apartment, parking her right by my door. She has now dried off completely, the towels have been removed, and a tarp has been placed over engine to provide some added warmth and to keep her blessed fragrance from filling my rooms. It pains me to know that she will be unrideable until the spring thaw, but I am confident that I made the most love-influenced decision for her, and that is my comfort in these winter months. And whenever I want now, I can play some sappy 80's love ballads on itunes and gaze at her resting there. (already done it.)
Post-script: please don't think I'm making light of love. I take the commitment, action, and cost of love very seriously, and write this merely because it makes me smile. And I truly do rejoice and thank God for the blessing that Thelma has been. I'm also serious that she is a great instrument for sharing the gospel and starting conversations. Lord willing there will be many more opportunities to work with her for His Kingdom.
