We all have dreams of endless summers, of long vacations that don’t end,
and the dread of having to go back to work. An escape from normal life is so
welcoming, so needed, yet so evasive. Over the years we have been blessed to
take our standard two weeks per year, and due to creative planning turn them
into as much as 37 days. Even when I first came west in 1975, I used my two
weeks paid, and sacrificed another two weeks unpaid to make the trip. There is
just something about being on the road that we love. It has taken us to 48
states, Canada, and Mexico-all on two wheels. We have seen the back roads,
eaten at Mom’s Diner, stayed at places that gave refuge like Bates Motel, and
been stuck in cities where no escape seemed available. We have ridden when it
is above 120 degrees, and below zero. We have been soaked in both rain and
sweat, followed snow plows, and even just stayed an extra few days sometimes
just because we could. We have planned every mile for every day, and then
changed it all when we wondered where a road led. We have seemingly wandered
without plan across states, not knowing what was ahead, but never fearing, and
excited about where we would spend the next night. We have run out of
everything except for money, sometimes making it home with only a few cents in
our pocket, the bike on reserve, and praying, hoping, and then thanking God for
getting us there. We start out each new adventure with high hopes, great
expectations, and after counting down the days, sometimes for months, we are on
the road. Even for a few days any more is exciting, but two summers ago we had
the ride of our lives-literally.
After being life flighted and having open heart surgery, spending a total
of 30 days in the hospital, 20 in Cardiac Critical Care, and then 5 days in
rehab,we needed a place to stay, and two friends we never met gave us their
house in Rio Rancho to have until we could leave. I say could, because I was on
heavy doses of antibiotics for my staph infection, and had to be monitored. In
one short summer, we had gone from counting the days of the trip, to counting
the day until we leave, to not knowing when we could leave. We knew August 6th,
was the target date, but with each visit to the doctor we hoped he would release
me. Knowing the best course of action was following it, but for the first time
we missed home. And the not knowing when, we still had if in the back of our
minds, would weigh heavy at times. God was more than meeting all our needs, but
we missed home. Through the miracle of cell phones, Theresa kept in contact
with our sons, and many friends via Facebook, but it seems there really is no
place like home when you can’t go there. When a summer dream turns into a
summer nightmare, when time seems to stand still, but life marches on. And you
find how really impatient you can be, but know you have to wait.
It had been an interesting year, at least for vehicles I got to ride. I
had ridden about 8 Press bikes for Triumph, ridden my 1978 Suzuki to the Hanford
Vintage Bike Show, and on Mother’s Day was invited into the cab of a locomotive
at the Perris Train Museum, then told to sit behind the controls and drive it.
For almost 3 miles I was Casey Jones at speeds up to 20 mph! We had started out
for Wisconsin on the Tiger, I was life flighted 250 miles by helicopter, and
then finally escorted by Theresa, while riding in the back of a rented Camry.
After she had at first rented a FIAT! So the summer of 2012 could be a story of
transportation modes, but a rented Camry? Oh the pain of it all! I cannot
begin to tell you how anxious we were to get home, even counting the hours
sometimes, and planning our last meal at Monroe’s, our last deli sandwich at
McCallister’s and one last visit to sit on Triumphs at PJ’s, the day to leave
was finally arriving. Through a wonderful friend Delana, she got us a room at
the Hilton in Albuquerque, closer to our last doctor’s visit, we were ready. We
had actually fallen in love with the home given us in Rio Rancho, but it wasn’t
home. But what a blessing it was. But we couldn’t wait to see the doctor, and
at 830am on August 6th, they pulled out my last pic line, gave me a clean bill
of health, and we were going west on I-40 by 845! The longest ride ahead of me
in the back seat of a car, but we were going home, and the next day, the next
night we would sleep in our own bed! I never realized you could miss home so
much, and all the little things that used to bother me seemed to be welcomed.
After what we had been through, bring on some normalcy-we can handle it.
The trip home was uneventful, and another night arranged by Delana had us
spending the night in Kingman. The last 350 miles via I-40 and I-15, two roads
I thought I would never be glad to see again. With one final stop to eat fish
tacos in Temecula, trying to get my emotions under control...but by the grace of
God we arrived. I had been given a new outlook on life, along with a new aorta,
and made medical history. Not at all what I had planned, but God had it all
under control, for I was out of it, and we were 1000 miles from home, so we left
it up to Jesus. That doesn’t mean the emotions didn’t run high, or we didn’t
get down, but we never lost hope. And the scripture a chaplain at Presbyterian
Hospital gave Theresa still gives me peace, and I share it with others. Isaiah
65:24 tells us that even before we pray, God has things under control. He knew
all about my heart, had the helicopter waiting, and landing just so the right
cardiologist would operate on me, Dr. Peter Walinsky, whose specialty was
aortas. He had the place for us to stay there, a second home a couple had
dedicated to the Lord, and they were blessed to have us use it. He had the
right nurses for me, amazing the amount of Christians he has placed in
hospitals, and even the right nurses for the infectious disease treatments, even
giving Theresa their home phones to call if she needed help, and giving her
extra supplies. The gifts from Monroe’s, PJ telling me when I got better, he
would lend me a bike, he just happened to be Peter’s best friend and knew about
my surgery before he knew it was me. And Delana’s gift, meeting a man in the
elevator when leaving who had open heart surgery, and then when dropping off the
rental Camry, being told to call Albuquerque, and having the $250 one way drop
off fee waived. God was there all the time. So when Pastor Ray tells us “God
is good all the time,” I can tell you “all the time God is good.”
In the back of my mind I wondered if I would ever see Escondido again, but
never lost hope for heaven. I still look forward to heaven, I want to go back
is the only way to describe it, but know it will only be on and in God’s time.
We cannot choose the day we die, or how, but we can choose to live for Jesus.
Knowing because he died and was resurrected, so will I. And that we will meet
in heaven again, and forever be filled with joy, no sorrow at all. If today you
are wondering how you will ever make it through the day, set your sights on
heaven. Be assured in Christ that it is real, and he is the only way to go. Be
given the hope we had, when all seemed hopeless, that God knows exactly what is
going on, and it all works out for our benefit somehow. We don’t know what
tomorrow brings, we aren’t sure of today, but eternity is for sure, and I want
to spend it in heaven with Jesus. Make the call today, he is waiting, and has
room for you. And plans for your life, for a hope and a future. Take it from
someone who when he landed was described “as the sickest person they had seen
who wasn’t dead.” I have faced death, and am not afraid of it, maybe still
unsure about the process, but trusting as never before. I am only alive here
today because of Christ, my wife not a widow, my sons not orphans. We never
thought the day would come when we started for home, today know we started for
home, the real home in heaven, the day we gave our lives to the Lord. Be it
ever so humble as riding in the back seat of a rented Camry, there really is no
place like home.
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com