Reverend Johnson had always been a bit of a rebel. He loved the thrill of the open road, and when he wasn't preaching to his congregation, he could often be found out on his Harley, feeling the wind in his hair and the roar of the engine in his ears. His parishioners thought it was a bit odd, but they couldn't deny that he was an excellent preacher, and that his sermons always seemed to have a little extra fire in them after he'd been out for a ride.
One day, Reverend Johnson was out for a ride when he came across a group of bikers who had been in a bit of a scuffle with the local police. Without hesitation, he pulled over to see if he could help. The bikers were surprised to see a man of the cloth, but they soon realized that he was one of them at heart. He talked to them about the importance of peace and understanding, and before long, the situation had been defused. As he was leaving, one of the bikers asked him what his name was. "I'm Reverend Johnson," he said, with a grin. The biker smiled and said "well, Reverend Johnson, looks like you're not just leading a congregation, but leading the pack too"