I have a bike named Grace. She was not named for her elegant beauty or for her ability to glide across the asphalt. Rather, her white and blue colors are the flag of an underserved present gifted to me in my darkest hour.

Like a fingernail scratch on an old chalkboard, the sound of crunching carbon fiber will raise every hair on your arm. When you realize the crunching carbon sound is one of your most prized possessions, your stomach turns upside down in disbelief. I had just done what so many Americans with roof racks have done before me and driven my roof-perched multi-thousand dollar bike into our carport roof.

My wife and I just looked at each other and started screaming. The scene to bystanders must have been hilarious. I just plowed into the carport, and we both started screaming on the edge of tears. You would have thought we just drove over pet Fido or something. Unless you ride bikes as much as we do, you would not understand the pain, but for a second there, I thought it may be the end of the world.

After sitting still a few moments, I got out to survey the damage. Sure enough, the rack was ripped off the roof of the truck, my bike lay in shambles, and gravel from the carport roof was sprayed the ground. I had killed my best friend.

There are those times in life when you would do just about anything to gain 30 seconds of your life back to do the ‘non-stupid’ thing. That bumper sticker “Nobody’s Prefect” should be glued to my face.

I had dreamed about getting a new bike. One of the newer, lighter, stiffer carbon frames with an integrated bottom bracket  like my buddies had. I would look through magazines lusting after the latest rides, and thinking how after I eventually progress from Cat 4 to Cat 3, I could justify the purchase. I would have surly ‘earned’ the bike by then. I didn’t deserve any bike after this stupid move.

After the dust settled and I regained some composure, I called my homeowner’s insurance company to explain to them how I did something really dumb, and I was wondering if they covered acts of stupidity. I think I dropped the phone to find out my bike was covered by our policy. In even more disbelief, my bike manufacturer had discontinued my old frame, and the only replacement was the new 2010 frame. One of the newer, lighter, stiffer carbon frames with an integrated bottom bracket I had drooled over in the magazines.

Like I said, I now have a bike named Grace. A bike I don’t at all deserve, but a bike I am grateful for every day.  Sound a little like the spiritual gift God has given us through His Son?

Grace. What a beautiful thing.

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Ephesians 2:8-9 (New International Version)
For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast.

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