Nowadays it's a motorbike. Back then it was a fast horse. So this teenage kid pulls up to the shul on his speedy white horse, ties it to a post and swaggers in for a talk with the rabbi. The Alter Rebbe. Just so he can get his parents off his back.

"Hi Rebbe! Watzup?" as he leans back, hands behind head, boots on desk.

That's okay. The Alter Rebbe is also a cool dude. "Nice horse you got there," he says.

"Best you can get!" answers the horse kid.

"Fast?"

"Meanly fast!"

The Rebbe shakes his head. "Too fast is not good."

"Hey, fast is awesome! I can beat those Cossacks any day. Man, they see this Jewboy whoosh past them and their teeth are grinding."

The Rebbe still shakes his head. "What if a fast horse gets loose? A slow horse runs away, you could still catch him. If your fast horse is gone, he's gone."

"My horse won't run away. He knows I'm boss."

"What if he does? What if he figgers he just wants to be free? That he doesn't want a boss?"

Teenage horse kid is squirming around to see his horse out the window. Still there. But y'never know.

"But then," the Alter Rebbe said, "if he can run away so fast, he can run back home real fast, too."

Horse kid smiles again. "Yeah, that's right!"

The Rebbe smiles too. Then he leans forward and holds the kid's hand. His hand is warm and kind. "So what about you?" he says.

The kid liked the Rebbe. With a little more guidance, he became a super-fast, awesome cool chassid.