Silas LOVED how chrome gleamed on his motorcycle.
Maybe that’s why, after falling asleep while reading Mark Twain’s “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court,” he saw himself dressed head to toe in brilliantly polished armor.
In his dream, it was the dark of night. He was hurrying home to his castle, riding his valiant steed through the countryside. Suddenly, the horse collapsed and died, stranding Silas in the middle of a dense forest.
Forced to walk down a seemingly endless road, Silas began to struggle as his shining armor grew heavier and heavier with each step.
At last, he caught the glimmer of a candle in the night – drawing nearer, he saw it was illuminating the window of a lonely farmhouse. When he knocked on the door, a lovely young girl answered.
“A horse, my lady,” said Silas, “I need a horse.”
“My father and brothers have left with our horses to take wheat to the mill,” said the girl, “they won’t return home until late tomorrow.”
Silas was desperate. “What can I do? I can’t walk another step and must return home.”
The girl disappeared into a back room, “Sometimes my brother rides this faithful beast,” she called out, “but I think you would have to take off your armor or you'd be too heavy.”
She returned to the door, leading an ancient and far past its prime Great Dane with matted coat and quivering legs. The pathetic creature could barely move, wheezing with every step.
“What say you good sir?” she asked.“I am grateful my lady,” replied Silas, “but it’s a long, difficult journey. And surely you wouldn’t send a knight out on a dog like this!”