Brother Bob over at the Second Baptist Church of Fort Stockton was a bicycle enthusiast in his younger days, back before he got the calling. He’d even been moderately successful on the Lone Star Loop racing circuit before an unfortunate accident on the Farm to Market Road from Marfa left him unable to compete (or sing in the choir for that matter, but that’s a whole different story).

To still stay connected to the sport, he bought a Volvo 244 DL 4 Speed and turned it into a Tour de France tribute vehicle, honoring his favorite pastime, his German heritage, and giving a subtle nod to the Schleitheim Confession, authored in 1527 on the Swiss-German border. The car raised some eyebrows in the congregation with its orange and black paint scheme, way too close to Halloween for the more conservative members. Nonetheless, his beautifully executed Volvo, a stunning tribute to chase cars of the 70s, killed several birds with one stone, not to mention more than a few of the slower armadillos around town.

Bob was hotter than a two dollar pistol when he came into the Grounds for Divorce a couple weeks back for a meeting with Pastor Peterson from Almost United Methodist and Sister Thelma from Our Lady of Immeasurable Concern. (They get together weekly to gauge the overall ecclesiastical condition of the combined local flock.) He fell into the booth in the back of the diner and slammed his copy of the Stockton Telegram–Dispatch down on the table, indicating his irritation.

“What’s got your Calvins in a bunch?” Thelma asked.

“Someone stole the bicycle right off the top of my car,” he said in a huff. “I don’t know what’s happened to the morals of this town. It’s not the same place it used to be.”

“Not the 14-Speed Eddy Merckx-themed, steel-lugged frame bike that matched your Volvo!” Pastor Peterson proclaimed.

“The one and only!” Bob replied. “I’ll never be able to replace it. Would sure like to know who took it. Pretty sure it’s someone from my own congregation.”

The group fell silent while they pondered Brother Bob’s predicament and sought guidance from a higher source. Lucinda refilled all their cups, set the pot down on the table and took a seat herself.

“Here’s what you do,” she said. “During your sermon on Sunday, have the congregation recite the Ten Commandments. Hopefully the thief will feel guilty and come forward.”

Sister Thelma and Pastor Peterson nodded along in agreement, surprised at the Solomon-like wisdom Lucinda consistently displayed.

The following Monday the group all found themselves at the back table at the GFD again. This time Bob seemed much more at ease as he slid into the booth. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I just got some new Falken tires put on the Volvo.”

Pastor Peterson and Sister Thelma looked at each other from across the red and white checkered tablecloth, but let the comment slide.

Lucinda came with three empty coffee cups and a fresh pot. “Did you make any progress on finding out who lifted the racing bike from the roof of your 244 DL?” she asked.

Brother Bob looked a little sheepish. “I did exactly what you suggested,” he told Lucinda. He leaned in a little closer, as did the others, and lowered his voice. “I led the congregation in reciting the Ten Commandments. When I got to ‘Thou shalt not commit adultery’, I remembered where I’d left it.”

Turns out, despite his injury, Bob was still able to backpedal.