“I know; I’ve been putting it off because I don’t know which road to take,” I replied, looking intently through a clothes rack to seem occupied as I searched for any other good excuse to cover up my negligence, in case that reason wasn’t good enough.
She led me next door to the garage behind an antique store and said, “I’ve bought this magical old cycle for you, and it will take you exactly where you need to go.”
“You must be joking,” I shake my head. “It’s broken-down and won’t run without tires, and who knows what else might be missing or corroded.”
“Start by repairing what you can, and the bike will let you know what it needs,” she answered matter-of-factly, as though she expected anyone to know that process. “All you have to do is begin and have faith.”
The next day, totally bewildered, I approached the clunky motorcycle with a set of wrenches, a rag, bottle of WD-40, and no knowledge whatsoever of engines. I wiped and squirted fresh oil on one particularly gunky part and instantly, it shined like new.
Day by day and part by part, I restored the bike until it gleamed from one fender to the other, and now the moment has arrived...will it run?