“Whatever comes down the pike.” Our pastor used this phrase in his sermon. His point was cool and morally valid, but my brain was distracted and took a detour.
Down the pike? What does that mean?
I asked Tim but he gave me the we’re-in-church look. You know the one that means he’s paying attention and I’m not. His eyebrows said, “Shhhhh. Don’t interrupt me—this sermon is more interesting than super-bowl commercials.”
With that dead-end I tried to let it go. FAIL.
Down the pike? What’s a pike? Does he mean the fish?
Whatever comes down the fish? NAAAH, but they sure do have freaky teeth.
Then I remembered Hans Brinker’s and The Silver Skates.
No, the boy didn’t plug a PIKE with his finger he plugged a DIKE. Moving on…
Should he have said “Down the pipe?”
That thought was followed by this memory from when we were first married:
My brother Russell worked for city sewers and Tim worked for city water. They had a long, unrepeatable conversation about what kind of pipe this was and what would come down it and how it was WAY-TOO-SMALL. But that wasn’t right either. So, I jumped on my smart phone and looked it up.
A pike is a road.
Ahhh. A road.
So whatever comes “Down the pike” means whatever comes down the road.
Thank you computer phone. I am now enlightened and with that essential detail firmly planted in the front of my brain something less useful, like multiplying fractions, my children’s ages, or the dates of the Civil War, can fall out the back.
Now, if I had only been listening to my faithful pastor I might know just what was coming “Down the pike.”