Tales Tolled to a Commuter by a Golden Bridge

By Kevin Scrivner

Our time on this physical earth is finite; however, the time we spend after our bodies have grown too old to continue is eternal. Where do you want to spend eternity?

The story is about someone who had his priorities all wrong. With the help of a golden bridge, God’s presence helped him realize the importance of having faith that your belief in God is true.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798889436843

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Tales Tolled to a Commuter by a Golden Bridge

Kevin Scrivner

ISBN 979-8-88943-683-6 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88943-684-3 (digital)

Copyright © 2023 by Kevin Scrivner

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Story of a Lifetime

The Ironworker

The Soldier

Heroes

Time to Reflect

The Unknown

The Greatest Sacrifice

The Return

Time Lost

The Mystery of Life

The Consistent Battle

Belief

Story of a Lifetime

I would like to share an experience that I have had with all of the people known as commuters who are required to endure a long and sometimes-agonizing commute drive just to have the privilege of going to work. I want to share this experience to find out if others have had a similar experience, or if I am the only one, why me?

Before I begin, I would like to give you a brief background of events that led up to one of the most profound enlightening experiences of my life.

It all began as a strategic move on the part of my company to expand our Internet company. You see, I am one of those most commonly referred to as a computer geek. I am also called an associate partner with one of the many companies created in the explosion of Internet businesses. Some of these companies were created on a whim with either the perfect dot-com name or have found niches on the Internet.

Pornographic websites and chat rooms play host to sexual perverts and have been created because of the abundance of humans who have flawed human characteristics. Legitimate companies have also been created that offer an unlimited amount of positive technology and information; these companies have made millionaires overnight for those who would endure little sacrifices. I found out that little sacrifices are sometimes not so little.

The company's strategy was to create a website based in or near the heart of technology, Silicon Valley. I was lucky enough to be chosen for the task, and this task involved one of life's major endeavors—moving! Not just a move across town, not just a big move to another province, noooooo! It was a life-changing move to another country, no less. I decided that I was going to approach this endeavor with the positiveness that it would take to achieve the goal that everyone should try to attain with their chosen profession, and that is to work as little as possible for the most money, or so I thought.

I began my journey via the Internet, or as some of you might know it, surfing the web. My journey had almost ended before it began as I was investigating the area that I would be calling my new home. Discovering the cost of housing in the Silicon Valley area made me realize that I would have to come up with some pretty swift and lucrative ideas to afford living even remotely close to the really choice areas reserved for the elite of the techno-whiz kids.

The next big metropolis area known throughout the world was the San Francisco Bay Area, with all of its scenic beauty that everyone so enviously talks about. The cost of housing in San Francisco was as expensive as in the Silicon Valley area, so I started looking in the outlying areas. I noticed that the farther north I went, the less expensive it was. I wasn't crazy about living in a large city anyway. The stories about the violence that have become so commonplace in all forms of entertainment and on the news in the United States made the rural areas more appealing. I didn't mind a leisurely commute drive to work if I could live in a small rural community; however, I did not want to go far north. If one of the sacrifices I had to endure was to drive a little in commute traffic to have more money in my pocket and live in a nice place, I guess I could handle that.

You see, that was the nucleus or center of my thinking: more money, more money, whatever the sacrifice may be. I thought the more money I had, the happier I would be because it takes money to do just about anything in life, including just surviving.

My official move date was far enough away for me to plan a premove trip. I wanted to find the best spot I could without having to scramble at the last moment and have to settle for a place that I didn't like. Moving is something you want to do as few times as possible in your lifetime because it is such a @#*! pain in the butt.

I arranged to take some time and fly to California. I rented a car. I set the trip meter and started driving. I left the airport and followed the signs that would lead me north. At first, it seemed rather easy to navigate the freeway system. As I followed the signs that were supposed to lead me to the Golden Gate Bridge, I found myself inside the city limits. I was sure that I had read the signs correctly, so I continued following the stream of cars that were seemingly en route to the same destination. I was certain that I was going the right way because, off in the distance, I could see a bridge through clearings in the trees that I was approaching. Signs that read bridge became more abundant, and the bridge became larger with each glimpse as I got closer and closer. Each site of the bridge intrigued me because I could only see it for a split second and was never able to focus on it.

The city streets came to an end, and as I came around a corner toward the entrance to the bridge, the mystic beauty was very evident of the bridge that spawned endless stories, songs, and legends. Its presence loomed over the water like a giant medieval sentry bridge guarding the entrance to a beautiful place that I felt was going to be my new home.

The bridge's towers standing tall as sentries to a new life

I crossed the bridge with caution because traffic was allowed to travel in both directions without a middle barrier to separate the oncoming swarm of vehicles whizzing by. If you are so lucky as to get caught in the middle lane, you will get an astonishing rush of adrenaline that must be experienced by high-speed stunt drivers. I didn't get a chance to really look at the bridge because I was too busy focusing on the cars passing inches from me in the opposite direction at what seemed like one hundred miles per hour. After I had crossed the bridge and my heart returned to a more restful beat, I realized I was only a few minutes north of the city, so I pulled over, dropped the top on the convertible I had rented, and continued with my journey.

I couldn't have asked for a better day to take a ride. The early morning temperature was a brisk sixty-six degrees. The sun was intensely bright, and I could feel the temperature rising with each mile I drove. The drive was not so bad. The freeway seemed rather empty for the number of cars traveling with me on this Friday morning.

It was about half past nine. I thought that given the pace of traffic traveling north and south at this time of the day, a farther drive north would be warranted. The semirural areas that I was traveling through were very nice, but the closeness of the houses was still too much for me. I was accustomed to the openness of the Canadian countryside, where the only competition for the roadways for miles is the occasional moose or grizzly bear.

As I was driving, a road sign that read Napa caught my attention. I remembered reading about Napa on the Internet as I was reviewing the cities in Northern California. Napa was located in the area of Northern California known throughout the world as Wine Country. I knew this direction would lead me to an area where I could find a place to live. If I could not find a place, then at least I could get a good bottle of wine for my efforts.

I left Interstate Highway 101 and was now traveling on Highway 37. The two-lane highway was similar to the roadways that wind throughout the provinces of Canada; this made me feel more comfortable about moving. The openness of the countryside was refreshing. My first sight of the progress that so swiftly moves across any beautiful rural area was a golf course that stretched across the open field with a miniforest of trees as a backdrop. This would most likely serve to fill the many hours that the techno-whiz kids would have to contemplate their next dot-com venture.

The highway signs now read Napa left, Vallejo right. I made a left and was now on another two-lane roadway known as Highway 121. I was getting my bearings when I heard what sounded like a swarm of giant insects or a squadron of World War II fighter planes. The buzz got louder as I rounded a curve, and then I saw the source from which the sound was emanating. The countryside had been turned into a large racetrack, and high-speed motorcycles were creating the sound that interrupted the beautiful silence that I was enjoying just moments earlier.

The racetrack itself was well hidden from the view of the road although I could see