60 degrees Fahrenheit in New York State at the beginning of March. Not normal. Needless to say, the warm weather draws out bikers. I passed three motorcycles on my lunch break yesterday. I returned to work only to watch and hear more motorcyclists drive by my window. By the time I finished my workday, I was beginning to feel desperate. I missed Arthur terribly.
Unfortunately, Arthur sat in my parents’ garage a half hour away, deep in hibernation. With his seat taken off and laid aside, his battery hooked up to a tender, and his engine loosely draped with a sheet, Arthur was prepared to rest for another few months. Although some salt lingers on the roads and another snowfall is likely before spring commences, I could not resist the urge to wake my motorcycle from his slumber.
I drove to my parents’ house and aroused my sleeping motorcycle.
After piecing him back together, I hopped on and headed for the nearest gas station to fill his depleted tires. I filled his front tire without a problem. Then I went for the back. Suddenly I remembered this episode from last year. His back tire’s spokes are too close together. The hose on the air pump does not fit easily. After struggling for about ten minutes I called my dad and asked for his help.
While talking with him on my cell phone, two young men approached me. They started with friendly conversation, asking about the size of the bike and such. Seeing the frustration on my face, they proceeded to ask what my trouble was. I pointed toward the back tire and whined that I could not attach the hose to fill it.
They stepped toward the bike and squatted to make their own attempts. I called my dad to tell him I did not need him anymore; Others offered me help. I smiled, satisfied that they also struggled to hook up the air hose to the tire. That assured me that the process really is difficult. It’s not just my own ineptness. After about five minutes of pulling and adjusting, they told me to put the quarters in the machine and the air began to pump.
As they worked on my tire, they told me stories of their own motorcycling experiences. I smiled half-heartedly as they described past accidents and wicked injuries. Nonetheless, their love for the hobby remained.
I thanked them once they finished, and they began to chat further. They had already mentioned how rare it is to see a girl with a motorcycle. Now they emphasized that they really came over to help because I was cute. I almost stopped them to inquire if they would have helped me even if they were not attracted to me. But I decided to let the comment slide. I didn’t want to attack their honor when they had just done me a favor.
The more talkative of the two declared, “It’s always nice to help a damsel in distress.”
Just like the cute comment, I almost interrupted him to argue. Instead I paused and considered how much easier these guys had made my task. I know that eventually I would have gotten that hose hooked up to Arthur’s back tire. But I also know that it would have taken a lot more time and effort than I wanted to give.
I smiled back at them both and replied, “It’s always nice to find help when you are a damsel in distress.”
A few moments later we said our goodbyes and I hopped on my bike. As I journeyed home, I couldn’t help but appreciate how fun it is to be a girl.
If I were a guy struggling in the same situation, I highly doubt they would have sauntered over to lend a hand. Although the whole situation seemed rather minor, I felt as if that scene reflected God’s natural plan for men to act toward women. They sacrificed their time and energy to take care of me in my moment of need.
So now I am issuing the appropriate biblical response. I want to honor these guys. I started by fighting the urge to argue with them or accuse them. Ultimately, I want to honor every man who gives something up to protect or provide for a woman.
Girls, listen to me! Fight your selfish pride. Fight your ungrateful attitude. Train yourself to treat men with respect and to recognize their noble deeds – no matter how small or insignificant those deeds seem. Just by being kind, we can encourage healthy interactions with men.
Deep down inside, every damsel in distress wants to be rescued and every man wants to be a hero. It’s not such a bad thing.