Café — Stirring the Spirit Within
   

 

 
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The late Bessie “BB” Stringfield was perhaps the most accomplished motorcyclist of her day. Unfortunately, outside the world of hardcore motorcycle history buffs, BB isn’t well known. However, she is considered one of the 20th century’s “Heroes of Harley-Davidson.”

   
  Bessie BB Stringfield.  

Born in Kingston, Jamaica, BB was orphaned at age 5. An Irish couple in Boston adopted her. They gave her a deep sense of spirituality. BB often spoke of her faith and how it enabled her to ride motorcycles. She once told the Miami Herald that when she got on her motorcycle, she “put the Man Upstairs on the front.”

At only four-foot-three-inches tall, BB was an unlikely biker. However, she decided she wanted a motorcycle when she was 16. Her parents obliged, buying her a 1928 Indian Scout.

In BB’s day, motorcycles were tough to operate. Unlike modern bikes, early motorcycles had to be kick-started, vibrated badly, broke down frequently, and were tough to steer. Riders also had to be skilled in adjusting carburetors and chains.

Once the diminutive BB got the skills down, she had another obstacle to face: Nice women — especially nice black women — didn’t ride motorcycles.

BB disregarded such assertions.

Later dubbed the “Motorcycle Queen of Miami,” BB was a well-known racer and stunt rider. She once even disguised herself as a man and won a flat track race. Later, organizers denied her the prize when she removed her helmet. During World War II, BB joined the United States Army as a motorcycle dispatch rider.

BB’s journeys often took her to the segregated South, where she countered racism with dignity and class. Sometimes, she could not find a motel that accepted black guests. BB often said she relied on God to lead her to blacks who would put her up for a night. When a friendly family couldn’t be found, she used her jacket as a pillow and slept on her bike in a gas station parking lot.

According to the Harley-Davidson Hall of Fame, BB owned 28 motorcycles in her lifetime. She was a woman who talked openly about motorcycling and of her faith, and her story is one of many that completely contradicts a negative stereotype of the typical “biker.”


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Faith Reflections by the Rev. Joy McDonald Coltvet

My favorite recent commercial is one in which a person is driving around with a radio playing a distinctive beat and begins to see everyone and everything moving to that same beat. The people are walking to the beat, the basketball bounces to that beat, the dog is running to that beat. Everything is moving together. Ideally, this is my picture of liturgy —- we work and live and move together, not robotically but purposefully, because there’s power and life in community.

How do we express our faith with that kind of distinctive-ness? In a way that builds
up community? Can these
two — individuality and community — exist together?

The writer of the book of Revelation describes being taken up into heaven:

Then I heard what seemed to be the voice of a great multitude, like the sound of many waters and like the sound of mighty thunderpeals, crying out, "Hallelujah! For the Lord our God the Almighty reigns.
Revelation 19:6

The vision of Revelation is that the fulfillment of all God’s promises to people will be filled with sounds. The sounds are either exciting or dangerous, depending on your point of view. For those who have been in a friendly crowd, the feeling of a multitude of voices sounds different than to the one who has been caught in an angry mob. The naturalist alongside a rushing waterfall has a different experience than one who has survived a tsunami. But, I think the writer intends that we hear the message of hope in Revelation — the powerful sound of all creation singing out, "Hallelujah!"
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