Night Rider

by
Rebecca Somoskey

“Oh, Wow!!” Jeremy gasped as his dad parked the shiny blue bike in the middle of the kitchen floor.

“Happy birthday, Jeremy,” he announced, “and congratulations for staying on the honor roll for all of fourth grade.” 

“Hear, hear!!” his mom called.
Jeremy rubbed the soft leather seat and the smooth metallic paint. “Cool,” he murmured. It had to be the most beautiful bike in the whole world. He eased the new helmet onto his head and adjusted the chin strap. “Can I take it for a spin?” he begged.

His mom smiled. “You bet! Just as soon as you review the three rules of biking.” 

Jeremy already had them memorized. “Number one,” he said, “always wear your helmet. Number two, practice safety at all times. Number three, never ride after dark.”

“Good deal,” his dad patted him on the back. “Now, let’s get this thing outside.”

Jeremy spent the rest of the afternoon doing figure eights up and down the driveway and sprinting along the walk to the end of the block. 
When his mom called him for dinner he parked the bike in the garage and went inside.

Mom had made his favorite pepperoni and sausage pizza, but he could hardly eat. All he could think about was the new bike. 
By the time dinner was over it was too dark to ride, so he strapped on his helmet and sat on the seat with his toes touching the floor. He wished morning would hurry and come. Then he had an idea. Maybe he could ride to the end of the driveway and back. Just once. It couldn’t hurt, and no one would even know.

Mom had turned out the lights in the kitchen, and Ben was watching a game on television. Dad was doing what he always did every evening, laying in his recliner, snoring underneath the newspaper.

Jeremy rolled the bike to the door of the garage and hopped on, then coasted to the end of the driveway. But instead of stopping he let the bike roll out into the street before he turned it around. “That’s fun,” he whispered.

He did it again. But this time, as he rolled into the street, he heard tires screeching. Then something crashed into the back wheel of his bike. Hard.

He flew through the air, and the next thing he knew he was stretched out on the neighbor’s lawn. Pain raced through his knee. His mom, dad and Ben were leaning over him.

Later, as Jeremy lay in bed, he thanked God for keeping him from serious injury when the car hit him. Then he asked God to forgive him for ignoring the rules. His knee was only skinned from his tumble, but he was grounded from riding his bike for a whole month. Dad could fix the bike, but the scars from the crash would always be there.

“Like sin”, Jeremy whispered.