Brothers and Sisters, I have had a recent revelation. While listening to thunder roll across the sky, I was
shocked by this bolt out of the blue, as it were, of what that sound truly was. Brothers and Sisters, it is
obvious to me that this sound has nothing to do with lightning. It is none other than the sound of a
Harley-Davidson motorcycle reverberating through the heavens. Yes, I truly believe that God rides a Harley.
Now, I am surely not the first to come to this conclusion. Anyone who has listened to a Harley rider talk will
fully know that riding one of these machines is a religious experience. Note the way their eyes glaze over with
revelatory fervor as they relate their Harley riding experiences. Recognize the bugs in their teeth for what they
are: a sign of true religious zeal. Wouldn't anyone not in the throes of religious experience close their mouth
firmly when experiencing insects at high speed? Ask any true Harley rider if it is a religious experience, and the
answer will be a resounding, "YES!"
So, Brothers and Sisters, what are the implications of this revelation? What will it mean to us in our daily lives
and spiritual pursuits? I am of the opinion that this may open up a whole new religion and set of spiritual
practices. Imagine a large, open church building with no uncomfortable pews. Instead, people would ride their
Harleys right into this church and sit on them, parked in rows around the altar or lectern. At the beginning of
the service, the minister would ride down the center aisle with his engine thundering. He or she would ride up a
ramp onto the dais to park his/her mint condition Harley in front for all to see. It would be the minister's holy
duty to keep his motorcycle in perfect condition to honor God. It would be a religion that would not seek to walk
in God's footsteps, but to ride close into his cloud of dust.
What other implications might this have? If a Harley is a religious requirement, shouldn't it be a tax-deductible
expense for all members of the Church of God on a Harley? Surely the IRS would allow this break for an item of
such high price and such religious significance? Motorcycle maintenance costs would also be a religious deduction.
Giving money to help the poor buy Harleys would be the greatest gift toward the religious experience of others.
Trips to Harley-Davidson headquarters and factories would qualify as religious pilgrimages. Instead of prayer and
fasting, a sinner who needs to get right with the world would go forth on his holy machine for a good long ride to
contemplate the error of his ways. Imagine a man who has committed some minor transgression coming to his minister
to talk it over. The minister might reply, "Now Frederick, I think you need to take some time to think about this
in the company of God. I would suggest that you get on your Harley and ride for at least forty miles for this
one." The Harley rider's wife is upset that he is out maintaining his machine or spending all day riding? He can
just invoke religious practices and invite her to church services over at the First Garage of God on Sunday. The
implications of this are truly vast.
This revelation also brings out other questions. For instance, it is well known that there have been many
difficulties in translating the Bible. If it weren't difficult, there wouldn't be so many different versions and
translations. Could there have been references to Harley-Davidson motorcycles in the Bible that just couldn't be
set down by those who wrote it because they didn't have the words? Or maybe the words they used to refer to
Harleys have lost that meaning over the ensuing years? For instance, many people refer to horses as a "mount".
That usage has also been applied to motorcycles in similar fashion. Could it be that the Sermon on the Mount was
delivered not from a high point of rock, but from the back of a Harley?
It is obvious that there is room in the world for one more religion, for one more view of God, the generous father
who rides forth in thunder on his Harley. I hope you'll excuse me, now. I have to go put in an order for my new
religious paraphernalia.
F. B. Knight is Curmudgeon-in-Residence at the Attila the Hun School of Management. He can be reached for questions at
fbk@attilathehunschool.net.
