There were five of them, which is smaller than the pack they normally
rode in. Five riders, three motorcycles and very little gas. They
were running near empty, and there wasn't a non-electric gas station
within miles, but they were too busy feeling the wind in their beards
to worry about that.
Dressed all in black, buttonless shirts and straw hats, this was
one group of Amish riders you wouldn't want to mess with, or even
talk to, but moments later Ron Anderson did just that.
He saw the group broken down on the side of the road; he pulled over
and got out, those were his first three mistakes, he shouldn't have
even looked. But his biggest mistake was what he said next.
"Ahms on Harleys. Never thought I'd see that."
There was only silence. He tried to offer them gasoline, but it was
too late, not that they would have expected his non-non-electric fuel
They spoke not a word. They only removed their hats, set down their
Bibles and proceeded to drag him into the cornfield to give him a
That's when Ron did something that may have saved his life.
He started singing. It was an old Amish Traditional.
Then he did something that may have saved his soul. He pulled out
a key. It was a key to a Harley Davidson Motorcycle.
With tears streaming down his cheeks he said, "I've been looking
for you everywhere."