Agatha quickly assured him that they could manage as long as they needed to now that they had this wonderful gift. She smiled as she looked at the motorcycle and ran her hand over the bright red fuel tank. “Lord, I’ve been praying for a change in my routine duties, and You’ve outdone Yourself.
Deo Gratias”
she whispered, slipping on the helmet over her veil, then hiking up her skirt so she could straddle the bike and keep the fabric well away from the wheel and other moving parts.
“I’ll be on my way then, Paul. But remember, Reverend Mother will have the final say on whether or not we can accept your gift.” She switched on the ignition, gave the throttle a little gas with a twist of her wrist, then eased slowly out of the garage into the parking lot. Flipping down the visor on the helmet, she waved at the Gonzales couple, then got back on the road.
It was just like riding a bike. One never forgot how to operate a motorcycle, she thought, testing the feel of the steering through the handlebars. The sidecar was attached, American style, to the right side of the motorcycle, exactly the way it had been on Kevin’s Harley. With a sidecar more steering was required when cornering because you couldn’t do it by leaning or shifting your weight the way you could on a cycle alone.
All this wonderful and nostalgic information came flooding back to her naturally as Sister Agatha headed back to the monastery. For the first time in years, she found herself thinking of her brother without the danger of tears flowing. With the visor down, only she and God knew that she never stopped smiling all the way home.
As the motorcycle roared through the gate and into the monastery parking area, she saw Sister Bernarda draw back the curtains in the parlor and look outside.
Sister Agatha waved, parked beside the entrance, and quickly removed her helmet. She saw the surprise, then the slow smile of recognition that spread across Sister Bernarda’s face.
“I don’t believe my eyes,” she said, opening the parlor door and stepping outside to look at the red-and-chrome beauty that was ticking quietly as its eighty-cubic-inch engine cooled.
“The Antichrysler is now in intensive care at Mr. Gonzales’s garage, and due to remain there for the next three weeks, minimum. Mr. Gonzales donated the motorcycle to the monastery so we would be able to get around without the car.” She reached into her pocket and brought out the papers.
“I had a friend in the Marine Corps who loved bikes. I can see that’s a Harley. What year?”
“It’s an eighty-six, and a dream to drive. I can give you lessons if you’ve never driven one. And, best of all, I can fix anything this machine needs myself. I worked on my brother’s Harley all the time, and he had an eighty-six Classic a lot like this one. We used to take it apart and put it together again in a day just for kicks.”
“You’re going to have to be the one to sell the idea to Reverend Mother. Do you think you can do it?”
“It’s absolutely perfect for the monastery now that we don’t have the Antichrysler. It’s great on gas and the engine is in perfect condition. The sidecar can easily handle supplies or a passenger!”
“Whoa!” Sister Bernarda laughed. “It’s Reverend Mother you have to sell, not me.”
Sister Agatha gave her companion a conspiratorial smile. “It
would
help if I could tell her that our other extern sister is also comfortable using this vehicle as transportation .…”
She looked at Sister hopefully.
“Oh, of course. Tell her that I’m happy to drive whatever the Lord provides,” Sister Bernarda said with a broad grin.
“Thanks. And I promise you’re going to love it.”
Taking a deep breath, Sister Agatha went inside and walked down to Reverend Mother’s office.
She found Mother reading a booklet on the sisters’ health insurance benefits. Fortunately, the monastery’s income from the scriptorium and altar bread sales provided for
Deo Gratias”
she whispered, slipping on the helmet over her veil, then hiking up her skirt so she could straddle the bike and keep the fabric well away from the wheel and other moving parts.
“I’ll be on my way then, Paul. But remember, Reverend Mother will have the final say on whether or not we can accept your gift.” She switched on the ignition, gave the throttle a little gas with a twist of her wrist, then eased slowly out of the garage into the parking lot. Flipping down the visor on the helmet, she waved at the Gonzales couple, then got back on the road.
It was just like riding a bike. One never forgot how to operate a motorcycle, she thought, testing the feel of the steering through the handlebars. The sidecar was attached, American style, to the right side of the motorcycle, exactly the way it had been on Kevin’s Harley. With a sidecar more steering was required when cornering because you couldn’t do it by leaning or shifting your weight the way you could on a cycle alone.
All this wonderful and nostalgic information came flooding back to her naturally as Sister Agatha headed back to the monastery. For the first time in years, she found herself thinking of her brother without the danger of tears flowing. With the visor down, only she and God knew that she never stopped smiling all the way home.
As the motorcycle roared through the gate and into the monastery parking area, she saw Sister Bernarda draw back the curtains in the parlor and look outside.
Sister Agatha waved, parked beside the entrance, and quickly removed her helmet. She saw the surprise, then the slow smile of recognition that spread across Sister Bernarda’s face.
“I don’t believe my eyes,” she said, opening the parlor door and stepping outside to look at the red-and-chrome beauty that was ticking quietly as its eighty-cubic-inch engine cooled.
“The Antichrysler is now in intensive care at Mr. Gonzales’s garage, and due to remain there for the next three weeks, minimum. Mr. Gonzales donated the motorcycle to the monastery so we would be able to get around without the car.” She reached into her pocket and brought out the papers.
“I had a friend in the Marine Corps who loved bikes. I can see that’s a Harley. What year?”
“It’s an eighty-six, and a dream to drive. I can give you lessons if you’ve never driven one. And, best of all, I can fix anything this machine needs myself. I worked on my brother’s Harley all the time, and he had an eighty-six Classic a lot like this one. We used to take it apart and put it together again in a day just for kicks.”
“You’re going to have to be the one to sell the idea to Reverend Mother. Do you think you can do it?”
“It’s absolutely perfect for the monastery now that we don’t have the Antichrysler. It’s great on gas and the engine is in perfect condition. The sidecar can easily handle supplies or a passenger!”
“Whoa!” Sister Bernarda laughed. “It’s Reverend Mother you have to sell, not me.”
Sister Agatha gave her companion a conspiratorial smile. “It
would
help if I could tell her that our other extern sister is also comfortable using this vehicle as transportation .…”
She looked at Sister hopefully.
“Oh, of course. Tell her that I’m happy to drive whatever the Lord provides,” Sister Bernarda said with a broad grin.
“Thanks. And I promise you’re going to love it.”
Taking a deep breath, Sister Agatha went inside and walked down to Reverend Mother’s office.
She found Mother reading a booklet on the sisters’ health insurance benefits. Fortunately, the monastery’s income from the scriptorium and altar bread sales provided for
Similar Books
