Traveling test of character offers lesson in guiltful greed

It was a sunny and bright Saturday in November, and the only time I’d been able to spend outdoors were a few brief, moments spent walking from my truck to the sliding doors of one home improvement store after another. I was stuck gathering supplies for a project that had begun with my wife’s innocent idea of relocating a bed from one room to another.

This simple project quickly ballooned to include two coats of fresh paint over four walls, half a mile of white trim, and the replacement of everything between the ceiling and the sub-flooring. The relentless drain of time and money was bad enough, but now, in losing the opportunity to be out in the rare golden rays of a beautiful autumn day, the situation was almost more than I could bear. I vowed I’d get out for a bike ride before the day was through.

With the darkness growing rapidly across the 5 o’clock sky, I rode out having largely missed the sun but certainly not the adventure. This became evident the moment I put my foot down at a country crossroads to find the face of Ulysses S. Grant staring up at me from the gravel below.

Now I’ve found plenty of roadside treasure over 40 years of bicycling, but most had come in the form of hand tools, coffee cups and the occasional misplaced cell phone. I even found a full set of horse shoes attached to a wandering horse one day, but that’s a story for another time. Sure, there’d been a sprinkling of cash along my 200,000 miles of roadway, but never more than a quarter or two or the handful of pennies I was certain someone inadvertently dumped from an ashtray. This was cold, hard cash — a $50 bill — just blowing down the road.

It seemed entirely clear the good Lord had sought to connect it with a hapless, dutiful lug who had just burned an entire beautiful day in service to his demanding wife. After quickly posing for a selfie and then texting it off to Kristin and the kids, I continued on my journey with newfound enthusiasm.

The miles flew by as I reveled in my good fortune. What could I do with 50 bucks? Buy a new bicycle tire? Pay for a tank of gas? Spring for a nice dinner at the Mexican restaurant in town? Or maybe I should “invest” in a handful of lottery tickets — that way I could grow my treasure into an entire fortune! I’d even set aside 10% to start a foundation.

The possibilities seemed endless as the miles clicked by, but as my fortune grew, so too did the weight of riding around with someone else’s money in my pocket. My “foundation” set aside increased to 20%, then 30% as I tried to calculate the proper amount to keep the Lord from smiting me for my shameful and obvious greed.

I’d finally settled on donating 90% of my projected lottery winnings to charity by the time I’d turned for home. That would leave me with approximately $10 million from a $100 million jackpot. No one could fault me for that, right? Especially if I was giving up $90 million for the betterment of man.

Only when I walked in the door, unfolded my prized find and put on my reading glasses did I learn I’d fully flunked my traveling test of character. The pale red print to the right of Ulysses’ giant head read in all capital letters, “FOR MOTION PICTURE USE ONLY.”

Having been tossed unceremoniously straight back to the middle class, I swapped out my bike clothes for coveralls, picked up a paintbrush and got back to work.

Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John at jlorson@alonovus.com.