Monday, October 1, 2012

Jesus in the Spokes

Imagine our surprise when Uncle Jim phoned our dear, long time friends Jack and Ann to plan a popcorn-fuelled movie night just to be told that Jack  wouldn't be joining us.  He'd been in a serious cycling accident.  Oh no!

After Uncle Jim hung up,  Auntie got the scoop.

Jack had hopped on his bicycle to ride downtown to buy a prop for a photo shoot he was planning for the coming week.

You see, Jack is a professional photographer and a good one at that.

Three of these and you won't feel a thing!
After Jack bought the prop, it started to rain so he put the prop in a bag and hung the bag on the handle bars of his bicycle. 

In an strange combination of fate, irony, and just bad luck, the bag with the prop swung into the spokes of his front tire.  His bike came to a screeching halt and Jack flipped over the handlebars, ass over tea kettle, splat onto the pavement.  Ouch! 

It wasn't a pretty sight.

At the hospital the news was grim.

Jack had a broken rib, a collapsed lung and a broken collar bone.

Poor Jack.

Auntie and Uncle Jim jumped in our car and zoomed to the hospital to visit Jack, bring him some of Auntie's ginger cookies and cheer him up.
Wrong place at the wrong time

When we arrived, Jack was lying in his hospital bed, surrounded by beeping machines.  He looked quite pale and had tubes sticking out of him here and there, making him look like a cross between a pin cushion and a Cyborg.  Not a pretty sight!

Despite the gravity of the situation, Jack was concious and in good spirits, no doubt helped along by regular doses of pain medication and attentive, pretty nurses.

The bedside conversation bounced along and Auntie's curiosity got the better of her. Auntie needed to know what was at the root of all this mayhem.

"What was in the bag that swung into your spokes, Jack?"  I asked.

"Oh, a crucifix."

Auntie's jaw dropped.

"A crucifix?"  I asked.

"A crucifix." replied Jack.  "I was going to use it for a photo shoot I was planning." 

Auntie couldn't believe her ears.

Your time is up!

Did Jesus have it out for Jack with some sort of a karmic message?  Hopefully not.

Well, we can all breathe a sigh of relief now that Jack is on the mend, with nothing more than a few scars, a broken bicycle, a scratched up crucifix and a riveting cocktail story.

Well, as with any dramatic event that intersects with your life, Auntie learned a few things from Jack's experience:  First, we are very lucky to have caring people to help us mend, whether they are doctors, nurses, bystanders or good friends.  And two, if you need a crucifix, have it delivered.

Safety first boys and girls!


  1. Good advice. I have always had my crucifixes delivered: Delivered by Mother when she found doorway(s) in my house that didn't have one firmly affixed above; delivered by Aunt (the former nun) who always thought it made a great gift; delivered by Father from the Parish when he would come to bless each of our new homes (at Mother's insistence, of course. Even when I asked her not to). Crucifix delivery is the only way to go.

    1. Aren't you one lucky lad? Free crucifixes and free delivery!


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