Thursday, August 13, 2015

north of South Dakota











With apologies to Stephen Austin’s immortal lyrics, “it rained all day the night I left, the weather it was dry...” I had two more states in the contiguous US of A to travel through to have seen all of the lower 48.  So planning my trip to go through both North Dakota and Montana was my main consideration on the way back from seeing my dad on his birthday in Jersey.  When riding cross country you must be prepared for all sorts of weather from blistering hot to freezing cold, and this early June gave me a chance to see both.  But like any presummer spring day, expect rain, and I had been fortunate.  I had been in rain, but only showers, but hitting Minnesota it got hot and muggy, the clouds just looking for any excuse to soak a biker.  Out here we would ignore them, but when riding in the Midwest they spell rain, so I took the freeway all I could, plus I was due back at a wedding that weekend.  Which left me only four days to get from Minnesota to Escondido via Montana, not the most direct route.  I would end up doing it in three, the weather being the catalyst to get home as you will see.
I spent an uneventful night in Fargo, hot and muggy, eating a steak dinner.  What else in farm country?  I went to bed full, planning on an early departure, and slept good, until the thunder woke me up about 2am, and kept me up.  And if it wasn’t the thunder, it was the wind and rain.  All conditions my Tiger had been in before, but that I wished to avoid all I could.  But the weather and my route choice dictated different...Showering I was in the breakfast lobby at 6am, which already was full of farmers who were travelling, maybe mid morning for some of them as they get up early.  But the talk was of spending another day as the weather was bad all across the state, with wind warnings for the next 200 miles west.  So my choice was simple-rain suit and ride slower as the weather dictates, or stay there for the day again.  And I prayed as I started putting on my rainsuit.
Now north of South Dakota is pretty flat, farmland and grazing land.  Wide open spaces of endless prairies.  You’ll have to take the tourism promise of it, what I saw was much different.   Fortunately I had filled up the night before as is my common practice, and off I went.  Now rain is bad, wind is worse, but the combination is insane on a motorcycle.  And for the next 200 miles I faced insanity.  Straight as the wind would allow, I rode at my usual 80+, passing huge trucks who only made it worse, and leaning to the left all the way, as the wind was blowing hard from south. It was so bad that when I stopped for gas, the left side of my front tire was scuffed like it had been on a track day.  But the sun was out, it hadn’t been too cold, but that was on its way.  Filling up and taking off my rain suit, a local women was intrigued when she saw my California plates, and wondered why anyone would ride from there to here.  “Just out for a ride,” my usual response, and she told me of some great roads to ride in the area, the middle of the state.  “Just turn north at Mandan, and enjoy the ride...” and on any other day I would have, but I had a schedule, never a good thing on a long ride.  But passing through the area, I could see how the topography changed, and with a river to follow, the first curves other than an exit ramp called, but I rode on west.  North by Northwest, still north of South Dakota.
Now Montana is known for the mountains in its western half, and I had even planned a detour through Glacier National Park and the Going to the Son Road, but again time was not on my side. Sunny, no wind or rain, and with the open speed limits, ran 90-100 making good time to Bozeman despite taking old US 10 and riding through the fields and hills, just north of where Custer made his last stand. And with all the weather behind me, I again had a great steak dinner, and was up early the next day.  No clouds in sight, but it was cold, 39 degrees.  But obviously not to a local couple, who rode in and sat next to me at breakfast in t-shirts.  Maybe I am spoiled by So Cal weather, but I was cold and drinking tea, an only on the road beverage when I am cold.  And then south, cold and windy, with more rain south of Salt Lake, but I made it home a day early, taking just three days.  Dry ground and 70 degree temps never looked so good. 
God had brought me safely home, through the storms, the wind and rain, and the cold.  Just like when Nehemiah completed the walls despite enemy influence in record time, it was all because of the grace of God.  Even my well traveled rider friends must admit it was a gift from God.  And of course I had spent much time with him, what better place than behind the bars of a motorcycle.  He reminded me how he takes us through the storm and not around it.  On days where semis were pulling over, God made a way.  When it got cold, God still made the way.  And gave me warm shelter at night, with a good night’s sleep.  And plenty of rest.  Despite all odds, and absence of common sense, mine, God delivered.  Making it through the wind and rain, I thought I had it made when it stopped.  But the devil never rests, and fortunately Jesus never sleeps or slumbers.  When it got cold, he was still with me.  It is always amazing to me that in the midst of storms we seek him most, and he never disappoints.  Yet on nice days, we forget, or neglect to spend time with him.  Isn’t he the God of good weather as well as bad?  But we must battle against the weather and keep going, seeking him in all situations, and then praise becomes a common result.  The world will throw everything it has at us, God is greater.  It is in the storm we see the greatest blessings, and his love made real.  To man it was insane riding, but with God it all makes sense.  Jesus never leaves us despite the weather or the storm.  I know he held me upright in the wind, gave me shelter, and got me there safe.  But not without much praying and spending time with him.  He is shelter from the storms of life, or the weather just north of South Dakota.  We will never cease to have battles against the world, the flesh, and the devil until we arrive home in heaven, and only Jesus will get us there.  Wet, tired, and cold...but we will arrive. 
Some day I hope to see North Dakota, to ride north of Mandan to see the pretty country I was told about.  On a sunny day, maybe in the middle of summer with Theresa taking pictures.  Some tell me I am crazy for some of the places I ride, and that I ride at all.  Those same ones also think I am crazy for being a Christian.  Jesus and motorcycles makes good company.  Never leave him behind, he never leaves you.  Seems Peter and the lads were caught in a storm one night, and there he was walking on the waves.  So it makes perfect sense to find him riding in the storm across North Dakota.  Or Montana, or south of Salt Lake.  Where he performed another miracle on the road, but that is another story.  No better place than to find Jesus than riding, he spent his ministry on the road.  And so he calls us too.
We don’t know what tomorrow brings, but we do know what he took us through today.  Start the morning as you end it, praising him, and find he never left you.  Even when you don’t have enough sense to come in out of the rain.  And you don’t have to travel north of South Dakota to find out.  One afternoon in LA traffic will have you yearning to go home, back to the Garden as quick as you can.  But he is patient with us, so be patient with him.  He who controls the weather will get us safely through the storm.  Better rides lay ahead of us, only when we follow the Lord.  And just like Oh, Susanna, “don’t you cry for me.”  But praise him.  There are songs for that too.
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com