You all know one, maybe you are one. You spend thousands of dollars on
your motorcycle, only to be afraid to ride it in any weather less than perfect.
Hours spent shining the chrome, putting Armorall on the tires, making sure the
windshield is clean and clear. Keeping it covered, never letting the light of
day see it to fade the paint, and keeping it securely locked, and hiding the
key, should someone break in and try to steal your baby. We all get like that
to a certain extent, but the true beauty I find in my own rides is the places
they have taken me. And the bruises along the way, and how I got them. On the
Tiger, the bike may be described as above, but is no trailer queen, having gone
92,000 miles in 48 states. It has seen two flash floods, heat above 124, in
other words it has been ridden and taken care of...it has many memories, and I
hope to make more. But one set of scratches on the left saddle bag have a
story, funny now, a bummer when it happened. Proving that in all kinds of
weather, we travel along singing a song, side by side-with God.
I was coming back from New Jersey seeing my Dad for his birthday. I came
across the North Dakota and Montana. I had been rained on this Memorial Day
weekend for almost 200 miles from Fargo, wind so high the sides of my tires were
scuffed, like from racing. But the weather broke, the sun came out, and soon it
was dry, no wind, but dropped to 39 degrees. The rain was warmer. But after
spending a night in Billings, the last stretch down I-15 and home seemed a
breeze. Only 1100 miles, no big deal. But the cold made it one, so I spent the
night, just ahead of the storm just south of Salt Lake City. With the Wassatch
Mountains behind me, I figured smooth sailing, then the storm broke. So bad I
had to pull off, no cars on the road, and a rest stop was my haven. A picnic
area with tables under canopies was my target, and soon the Tiger and I were out
of the storm, which only grew in intensity. I spent a good 30 minutes using two
hand dryers just trying to keep warm, and then the rain stopped, and I wanted to
get home-fast. Easing my way off the concrete, I got stuck in mud, actually
buried the rear tire so bad I couldn’t put down the side stand. But still
couldn’t get off the bike, or it would fall over. And I was hidden from sight
behind the wall! I had been the only vehicle in the parking lot, now I was
alone and stuck. Praying, I heard a car pulling in, and started to yell
“HELP!” Two old men, like past 70 came to rescue me, both were sickly,
sympathetic, but could offer no assistance. Plus I was in the mud, and they
couldn’t really reach me, without getting stuck themselves. “I’ll get my wife,”
the one guy said, and went off in her direction. Great, a senior citizen get
together, the conversation for their next AARP meeting, “this fool biker was
stuck in the mud,” and then the slide show of me being stuck, with warnings
about bad weather and motorcycles. All I wanted was out.
But his wife was not what I expected. She was a big woman, not fat, but
strong like moose, and with one push, I was free! In fact I the rush was so
strong I slid sideways, and flat tracked the rest of the way out. Glancing the
wall I was hidden behind with the left bag, putting some surface scratches on
it. I couldn’t stop, just yelled thanks from inside my Arai, honked, hit the
pavement and kept going. Scars on my saddle bag, maybe to the guy who is so
anal he never rides, but to me a beauty mark, a time to remember the ride, the
storm, getting stuck, being frustrated, and having God send someone I least
expected to rescue me. Not what I would have ordered, but what I needed. And
looking back, she was dressed in white, and my first fear was getting her full
of mud and roosting her-but not a drop got on her! Her husband must have been
proud, and he has bragging rights to her at the next AARP meeting. And gets my
prize for Citizen of the Year. Never met her, don’t know her name, only known
to God. Where some say “nothing says I love you like chrome,” I rather have the
miles and memories. And to that woman and her husband-a great big hug! And my
love.
If you never get out and ride, you will never get dirty. If you stay
inside the four walls of church, you may be safe and secure, but never see sides
of God that those who get out see. It is in our adversities that we see God,
where we call upon Jesus, and in many cases only he can get you through. He
never promises to take you around the problem, but will get you through. Not
all roads are race track smooth, and we need the heavenly suspension of Jesus to
help us absorb the bumps and heal the bruises we encounter in life. Some with
scars left, that can be embarrassing to some, and covered by make up. But that
still remain. Some scars are so deep, that they cannot be seen, only Jesus
knows they are there, and he heals them too. Which brings us a mystery, why
will we be perfect in heaven, I really need a new body, and he will still have
scars where the nails pierced his hands and feet? Theologians discuss it,
denominations categorize it, but why? Love. It is that simple. Love is the
answer. We will be forever reminded of his love for us on the cross, of how it
took his life to reunite us with God in heaven. How without Jesus we would not
be there, and how horrible his crucifixion on the cross was. But we won’t see
the horror, we will see only his love, his true identity, and his agape, his
love for us that only can come from God, not from man. So we wear many scars
today too, to remind us of bad times, but to further remind us of how Jesus was
there, is there, and keeps us going. In the storm, in the sun, or even while
riding, he keeps us going. And sometimes like his signature nail pierced hands,
he leaves us with a scar to remind us he was there. Because we so readily
forget. And my open heart surgery scar is so beautiful, because it reminds me
only Jesus kept me alive. He touched my heart, physically and spiritually...and
cares all the way down to a rest stop in a storm. We are never out of his line
of sight, his love shining in us better than any chrome ever will.
Our wounds will heal, and may leave a scar. But Jesus never leaves us,
never forgets about us, and never turns his back on us. Even when going down
the wrong path, making the wrong turn, or wrong decision, he is there beside
us. And knows the way out....sometimes using the least expected ways so we are
reminded. So the scratches remain, and if you ask, I’ll tell you. To a
potential buyer, a reason to look elsewhere, but to those who ride a reminder of
life on the road. A life with Jesus, taking us places, showing us sides of his
love we would not have otherwise seen, and blessing us in the midst of the
storm. For many of us we have found him in the midst of the storm. But he is
there on sunny days too. Maybe reflected in the chrome you are polishing. May
your ride reflect Jesus more than yourself, hours spent polishing and shining
can be ruined in a few short minutes of rain. Dirt may cause a multitude of
sins, only the love of Jesus Christ will cover a multitude of sins. Chrome
won’t help you if you don’t know how to ride. Like a worn out Bible shows a
life that isn’t, some scars are worth the sharing. Get out and ride, get out
and live. The rain falls on both the just and unjust, just like it falls on the
shiny and dull. But the scars will tell us more about your ride. What do your
scars tell others? My saddle bags tell the story of a miracle...what’s your
story?
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com