Onion-man

As I walk back home after my run, a man passes me on a bike, hauling a big bag of onions.

Me: Hey, Onion-man! Where are you going?
Him: About a 100 meters, then taking a left.
Me: Good luck to you, Onion-man.
Him: Much appreciated, stranger.

About 100 meters further on, I come upon the onion man again. His bike has toppled.

Me: Onion-man, I see that you've fallen.
Him: I have. But my onions are alright.
Me: A man couldn't hope for more.
Him: No. Truer words were never spoken, stranger.
Me: Except in the scriptures.
Him: Except in the scriptures.