In 1980, I decided to get a larger motorcycle which may or may not have been such a wise decision.  I bought a 1979 Yamaha 650 Special.  Needless to say, if you are familiar with bikes, I outgrew that one in less than two years.  In 1983, I traded the 650 in for the 1981 Yamaha 850 Special which I still own today. It was beautiful.  Its color was red/black meaning that it was black with red metallic chips through it.  It had saddle bags, trunk and windshield.  It was much better for traveling on the open highway because of its weight. As I was riding it through the small city of Hagerstown, Maryland on February 2, 1988, I had a rather miraculous situation. In this town, there are many one way streets.  On this particular day, I was driving on one.  The day was cool and brisk, and the warm sun was shining.  It was an absolutely beautiful day that God had given us. I was very tempted to remove my helmet since the laws in Maryland did not require them.  I could soak up this lovely day, as I had many times before.  But, something came over me.  I must wear my helmet.  I was not sure at the time why the Lord was impressing me with this, but I was obedient to what I felt He wanted. I was driving south in the left lane on Mulberry Street (it was one way) and approaching Baltimore Street.  In the right lane there was a car stopped at the traffic light up ahead.  I was slowing down for the red light, but I knew that in a moment the light would change to green, because the lights downtown were all synchronized and you would know when they would change. Just as I was about fifty feet behind the car, the light turned green.   The vehicle in the right lane began to pull out.  Of course, I started increasing my speed again. Suddenly, as I began to pass the car, the driver turned to the left into my path.  Everything at this point seemed to happen in slow motion as is the usual in traumatic situations like this.  I don't know if it's so we can better cope with what's happening, or just to ensure that we feel every bump, bruise and injury that we paid for. Since everything was in slow motion, I looked into the driver's window to see who was doing this to me.  There at the wheel was a lady looking at me with horror in here eyes.  Of course it was a lady and I know what they say about women who drive. I wondered, "Now where is she going. Guess I'd better get out of her way."  As I began my attempt to veer out of her way, I collided into the side of her car, just in front of her driver's door.  My right leg was caught between the motorcycle's gas tank and the car's from t door when inertia slammed the bike against the car. My bike immediately was thrown to the street where I slid about twenty-five feet with my left leg between the motorcycle gas tank and the surface of the road. The bike stopped there, and I alone continued without the bike, or my sanity, for another ten to fifteen feet on my felt side and back side,,,,  Ouch!?! When I finally came to rest, I tried to get up.  One witness actually tried to push me back down on the pavement.  He, as well as the others, didn't want me to move saying, "Stay there, you might be hurt.  Don't get up, just lay there.  Don't move."  I told them that I had to get up to get my bike upright because the gasoline was leaking out.  That was too expensive to let pour out on the street.  They said I was not going to lay there but they could if they want. First off, the only real injuries I had was to my wits, and possibly the seat of my pants.  I was a little nervous about standing only because I wasn't sure how much fabric was remaining in my britches between me and the public. As embarrassing as it might have been, I got up and helped the others lift the motorcycle, and push it off the road and onto its kick-stand. I could very easily have been thrown into the traffic on Baltimore Street because I ended up in the turning lane there, but God protected me from that.  The police officer said that almost all motorcycle accidents of that type result in the biker having one or both legs broken, crushed and/or burned.  Not only did I not receive any of those injuries and didn't get as much as a scratch, bruise or hurt feelings, AND all my fabric on the seat of my jeans remained. In fact, I did what I could to help calm down the poor, nearly hysterical lady.  I felt sorry for her.  She sat in the police cruiser crying.  Nothing the officer said seemed to help her. I told her that when she gets to thinking about my motorcycle and me, and feeling distraught about this unfortunate situation, just think of how funny it must have looked to her as she watched me bouncing down the street on my backside.  The officer chuckled and the lady laughed and calmed down considerably.  I recall her chuckling several times afterwards.  I wonder,,,  did it really look that funny? God does care about everything in our lives and offers His protection at times we need it.  His hand was definitely upon me in this.