The Q-ride course was challenging. It was hot and I had to wear jeans and long sleeves as their safety rules. I also hadn’t ridden a bike with gears since I was a kid on the farm, all my experience was riding mopeds in Asia, so while doing all the proficiency tests I was really just trying to learn clutch control and changing gears. It was challenging, but I was able to let go of expectations. The morning prayer, or more like spiritual awakening, had had an effect on me. I didn’t even really do it consciously, it was like I had grown spiritually. When I was under pressure and in fear of failing the course my thoughts just went to, God you got me here, I don’t even know why. I would rather be at work, I don’t even have a motor bike, but I am here now, so I will just do my best.
It got easier as the day continued and then for the final assessment we all went on a 2 hour road ride. The six students got a turn to ride at the front of the pack and get assessed by the instructor. I was last. We had a drink break at a service station and there wasn’t much room to park, but I squeezed in up the side behind the bowser. I had a drink in the shade and then got going again. A big truck had pulled in to get fuel making it even tighter for me to get out. Reversing down the hill to do a three point turn, I pulled the clutch instead of the break and rolled the back of the bike into the trucks wheel. The driver gave me a death stare. The instructor was beside himself and called me over to give me a thorough chastising, and we were off riding again.
I was so embarrassed of what happened. I thought, I fucking hate motor bikes, they’re dangerous and I’m not even enjoying this ride, cars are way better. I’m unlikely to ever buy a bike. He’s probably going to fail me. Having a collision must be an instant fail. Oh, well. I have a new employer and I trust that whatever happens on the job is just what happens on the job. I don’t need to understand it. If I fail, that’s fine. I will never ride again and maybe save myself from a terrible injury. I really felt different. I was hot, uncomfortable, yet I had a faith in God, a faith that things were going to work out, and my plans or expectations were not so important.
It was my turn for the assessment. I did ok, and he signed me off on my license. I headed home in my beautiful BMW thinking how lovely this air-conditioned performance vehicle is compared to those crappy bikes. It was a long drive through traffic and when I finally got home I was tired. “I’ll have a quick shower and we can get a bit to eat before the meeting.” I said to Ricky.
“You want to go to the meeting?” She asked with a look like she was hoping I would stay at home.
“Yeah, I should.” I said, recognizing I was only a few days clean. The interesting thing was there was no internal debate on will I won’t I. I had every excuse not to, but I was compelled to go the meeting.
We had dinner at Guzmen and Gomez and then went to the show. I am normally very stand offish at meetings and because I don’t smoke I use that as an excuse to not hang out the front before the meeting and instead go inside. Without thinking I greeted a member I knew out the front and stopped to talk to him. Another member who I had always wanted to introduce myself to came over and I got talking to him to. I was enjoying the company and felt a part of.
On the way home I reflected on what happened and noticed it took very little effort. I have been trying to be a part of and get involved in the fellowship more for ages, but I always found it such a struggle. Today it just flowed. I likely had quite a different vibe too that was more welcoming. I could see the power of the steps and the power of God that comes through the process of humbling myself to him through the steps. It then dawned on me I had no desire to use drugs. It was like the problem had been removed. I went to sleep that night in awe about the spiritually transformative power of the steps.
Red Pill Recovery 