did I really hit the jackpot when I won?

Everything starts out new once, and so did the Mazda RX7 advertised in the Farmington newspaper. It said low miles, great condition, and that it had been won on a game show, so that the asking price was the suggested retail of the car. Couldn't say if the price was good or bad, but in 1989 $11,995 was a lot of money for me-for any car. So driven more by curiosity, I went to look at it.

Sitting by itself in the garage, was a new, red 1986 Mazda RX7. Not quite the car I had envisioned from seeing them in ads. Still it had the window sticker on it, and after he let me sit in it, it had less than 100 miles on it. This man, the husband, told me how he had won the car on Wheel of Fortune, and couldn't drive a clutch, so the car was for sale. And based on it being a new car with a history, was "only" asking for the sticker price. Now red sports cars have always attracted me, and this being the first year of the new body style, I had read about them but never saw one. And this one was probably rarer than he even knew. It was the most basic car, with no options. Cheapo interior, tiny tires, no radio or a/c, and it even looked cheap. This was the ad car to get you into to buy one you would actually show off to your neighbors, not the one you would buy. And my best guess is that it would not sell very soon. Particularly at the price, and only a die hard fan of Vanna White would fork over the money for it. And although I believed he wanted the money, it seemed his wife wanted the car, she was standing behind him not wanting to sell it, but to drive it. But the old guy thought he had a gold mine, or at least a gold nugget, so it was for sale. And sadly, neither one would enjoy the prize.

I watched the movie "The Jackpot" for a hile when drying off yesterday. Jimmy Stewart won $24,000 worth of prizes-big money in 1950, and he and his wife, Barbara Hale, aka Della Street on Perry Mason,(Paul was right when he called her Beautiful) and ended up selling what they could to meet the IRS tax imposed on the winnings. And it was funny, but sort of sad, for although they won, they too never enjoyed the spoils of victory. Next time you watch a game show, and it says contestants must meet eligibility requirements, one of them is they can afford to pay the taxes, usually about 28% off the top, to win the prizes. For example, you win a $10,000 trip-which is billed at retail. Checking with a travel agent would get you the same trip for about $6000. And after paying your tax, about $2800, you actually get the trip. Maybe a good deal, if you won enough cash to cover it. And you will get a 1099 form for your other winnings. Taxed as income. Like the man says, there is no free lunch. And don't forget to leave the tip.

So when Coach Lombardi said "winning isn't everything, it's the only thing," he forgot about the tax man. Remember-the IRS thinks they are the only thing. Or at least, the first and most important.

When the economy tanked in 2008, I talked with many men who lost a lot, some everything. Good men, Christian men, who when they watched their fortunes eroded, would quote the Bible, the one about where it's all going to burn anyway. And I wondered, did they feel the same way when they were earning it? Did they work so hard just to have it burn, someday? Were these entrepreneurs really that Bible savvy that they believed then that it would all burn someday, and build the wealth anyway? Who would build a house knowing it would burn? Who would build a house on a cliff, knowing it would slide into the Pacific? Who would...? Get it?

We can be so blessed by God, but when the things own us, the blessings have faded. And whether it is a car, motorcycle, a house, or vacation, winning at all costs is not winning. When the price it exacts gets between you and God, and the house owns you, and you have to sell it, first prize is no prize at all. Truly, cars get old and depreciate, house values will go up, then down, and while you continue to make payments, they own you. And what if what you won isn't what you really wanted?

Remember the free lunch? The only one truly free was when Jesus fed the 5000. He met the needs-for free. And still will and still does today. Lottery winners, or those who gamble, history tells us the money will be a curse. You see winning is one thing, not the only thing. Collecting and enjoying far surpass it. Instead seek the peace that only Jesus can provide. There is no such thing as luck, only divine providence. So ask God, who loves to give good gifts. A yes, well, it means you can handle it. No, well, it may just may ended up handling you. And He may have something better in mind.

Just ask the lady who couldn't drive her RX7. She won, but now was paying the price. Sometimes second place is not first loser, and first is not the only thing! So seek God first, and He'll add everything you need to your life. He offers an option list that no other god can offer. And give you your heart's desire.

Sorry Vanna, I'll keep the $500, you can keep the vowel. And that free lunch, it may be more expensive across the street, but it's what I really want. Be careful what you ask for, for like Mark Twain once said, "the only thing worse than not getting your heart's content is getting your heart's content." Just another lesson from how to read the want ads. Jesus Christ-the only jackpot!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

suddenly it's...time to trust God

Tuesday while swapping bikes with Mickey, I wondered into the car collector shop next door. Now I love old cars, and have been reading about them and going to car shows for almost 40 years. My library is intense. But without knowing it, the owner had me at a disadvantage talking about cars. He was showing me his two Chrysler products, a 1955 300 and an Imperial. And for once, I listened intently to what he was saying, because for whatever reason, I have never owned a Chrysler, or any of its products. As cars they have never done anything for me, or to me. Growing up Lenny's mom had a mid-fifties De Soto, pink, black, and white with the shift lever sticking out of the dash-how uncool. Joey's dad a 1961 Seneca, the year they put the fins on backward-ugly, and who can forget looking into your friends shoulder as they put the rear view mirror on the dash. And the asymmetrical front seats. Maybe it was the old "Chrysler crank," remember that horrible noise their starters made? For any of the above, or some reason unknown to me-Chryslers, Dodges, the now deceased Plymouths, and the long gone DeSotos never made an impact on me.

And outside of Nippy, and his Dart with the slant six, no friends had Chryslers either. Can't even remember a single friend, who during the super car era owned one. SS396's were a dime a dozen. As were Camaros. Mustangs were everywhere. Big V-8 Chevies and Pontiacs, you could tell the car by the way it sounded. But never, for whatever reason, Chryslers. And they made some great cars, I'm told.

Hemis-a car built around a legend and an engine. And today they hope the legendary name will bring them new business as they call their hi-performance engine a Hemi-although it really has wedge shaped heads. But you can say you own a Hemi, even if no one knows what it is, or really isn't. But for some reason, the history intrigues me more than the car, but not enough to have any books about their products in my library. Great names have been associated with the company. The Dodge Brothers. Owens, Breder, and Skelton, great engineers into the thirties. From styling in the fifties so staid a gentleman could still wear his hat, to a few years later bragging "suddenly it's 1960..." in 1957, even the styling left me cold. Third place in a two man race. Richard Petty won in them, then switched to Pontiac. Remember Lee Iacocca selling the miserable K-cars? The first minivan, right again, in 1984 was a Chrysler product. The so-called great government bailout-Chrysler again. They bought the vestiges of American Motors to get Jeep, and then were raped by Daimler Benz, and sold at fire sale prices, it seems the company is more famous than the cars. And in a world known for product, maybe that is why. And the closest I ever came to owning one is before they bought Jeep and I sold them. 12 years before. And for some reason, it bothers me that I have no interest in them. So while listening to this man speak, his cars were nice, but the 1957 Mercury Turnpike Cruiser interested me more, he spoke of the cars lovingly. And for a few seconds, I was interested. But being within 20 feet of all the motorcycles at Mick's, I lost interest fast. Leaving me with one question, why was this guy so passionate about Chryslers? And I wasn't?

Have you ever tried to go out witnessing, and blew it? For one thing, I am amazed you can flip a switch to go witnessing, since we are called to be witnesses. How do you turn off/on Jesus And how some study the right words, to have the right answers, only to find the questions are different. Was it wrong answers, or wrong questions? And talking with Pastor Scott we were joking about the lengths people go to to share Jesus. The Four Spiritual Laws, for instance. I don't know them, and my answer is always don't the law and the spirit come into conflict? Which has never failed to cheese off whoever was asking me. I don't know where the Roman's Road is. Italy? And I have been a lot of places. What would Jesus do? Christian, you have to ask? And last night an old friend told me that I should use my sales training to evangelize more. Talk people into Jesus. I guess he meant well-I hope. And somehow, like my lack of interest in Mopars, they don't get it. Jesus told His disciples that the holy spirit will give you words when you need them. And since the holy spirit guides us into all truth, and points people to Jesus, who actually saves them, all the other training is a waste of time to me. Trust God! He doesn't need you, but wants you to stand by in readiness so He can use you , and you can be blessed. Were you saved by clever words or misleading advertising? Did Jesus run an introductory special the day you got saved? Were you offered a rebate if you get saved now? Or did you think that you were a Christian just because you joined a church, or filled a pew?

Trust God. He is the only one you can trust. He sought you long before you ever thought about Him. He is the one who gave and gives you passion for Christ. And in a simple 25 word statement, John 3:16, gives you the meaning of life. Then it is your decision. Based in the heart, and confessed with the mouth. It's all about Jesus!

Maybe it's because DODGE stands for Drips Oil, Drips Grease Everywhere, when BIBLE stands for Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth. But truly it is about a passion, and about a man who put it into my heart, and then my life. It is all about Jesus. And to me, anything else is just another car.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

Honda-they still make motorcycles, don't they?

Legend has it that a Mr. Rip Van Winkle of Sleepy Hollow, NY fell asleep one afternoon, and awoke 20 years later. Confusing thunder for some guys bowling league, he awoke to a much different world than he fell asleep in. I may have gotten a glimpse into the past and to what he awoke to yesterday. While at ECC having a new tire put on the Bonneville, Herm, the service manager showed me a crashed Gold Wing he was almost done repairing. Now that all the parts had finally arrived, he was able to replace the air bag-yes air bag, and now that he had all the components, from the four sensors in the forks to the control unit, wiring harness, and air bag replaced, the radio didn't work. Now Herm has been fixing Hondas since they were just a motorcycle company, and I'll bet he never imagined on his first day back then ever replacing air bags or fixing radios-on motorcycles. But that was the dilemma keeping the customer from riding that afternoon. And just like the Honda commercial says, "I wanna ride, I wanna ride..." but my radio is broke.

So while Herm pondered his next move, I cruised the showroom. And looked at the new Gold Wings, 2010s as the new ones weren't available yet. $28,000 for a new bike with the air bags. And as I wondered if I was looking at a Honda car or motorcycle, I realized they had much in common. And that a Civic with sound systems, ABS, cruise, Air Bags, and trailer towing-like the Gold Wing has, still offered air conditioning, heater, and no need for a trailer, it has a hatchback, gets better mpg and is $10,000 less! And I wondered how long I had been asleep! And as I thought more, seeing all the Wings I do pulling trailers, pin striped, and decked out in chrome via the Kuryakin catalog, these motorcycles were out the door at over $40,000! And doing some quick math-while keeping my shoes on, discovered that for only $35,000 I could have a new Mustang 302, with all the above, and over 420 hp! As fast as a Gold Wing, and probably more fun based on acceleration alone. And all I could figure is guys like Herm, me, and others like us had fallen asleep and then were awoken to another time. A time where motorcycles were more expensive as cars, just as complicated, and not quite as much fun. The fun being the defining criteria, as I remember they used to be fun. And when I look at my garage, I don't have $35,000 invested in all my bikes, also no ABS, no radios, no air bags, and I wonder-am I asleep or in a dream? Either way, don't wake me up until it's over.

Maybe that is why I keep my motorcycles and my God simple. Too many programs taking the place of Bible studies at some churches. Too much of this and that classes, but not enough of the gospel. Seems we all know someone, or are someone who knows more Bible than Billy Graham, yet still haven't become familiar enough with the author to call Him by His first name. God wants us to call Him Dad, Abba. And so we fall asleep, and don't realize it, continuing to rack up seat time-in church or on bikes, not knowing we are almost comatose to the spirit. A wealth of knowledge, all the illusions, but without love. Missing both the simplicity of the gospel, and of a great motorcycle ride because of too many "things." And rather than looking ahead, we only look back to the first time we got saved, and how exciting it was. And still wish we could have the first euphoria of the wind in our face as we did on our first ride. Before religion replaced Jesus, and programs replaced people.

Twenty years passed very quickly for old Rip. He hardly knew it until he awoke, and found out the world had changed and he hadn't. If you haven't changed, and you think Jesus has, wake up! It is us who needs to change, and get back to the basics-the gospels. Pick up your Bible, put down your i-pad, and spend some time with God. While waiting for it to charge, pick up the book, and turn the pages. And go back to before you fell asleep. And find that Jesus is just as fresh today as He was way back then. And that air bags, don't belong in churches or on motorcycles. Learn to ride and enjoy the trip. Get to know Jesus and enjoy life!

All this technology has not made a better rider, and so many books and tapes don't necessarily make you a better Christian. And that is maybe why Rip slept for 20 years. He had no reason to wake up. Don't make the same mistake. Technology may have changed, but it still takes more than two wheels and a set of handlebars to make a motorcycle. Until you add the motor, the heart of the motorcycle, you may only have a wheelbarrow! Dump religion, and take on Jesus. Rest time is over. No more napping! Your new day has begun, enjoy the ride!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

sin and alcatraz-only one you can escape

Years ago my family and I toured Alcatraz. If you took the tour of the bay, you actually paid less and got the prison tour included than if you just went to Alcatraz. Perhaps the only deal to be had in a city where it is over $6/hour to park, if you can find a space. But the tour of the prison was much more than we had expected. Instead of clean white cells like shown on old Warner Bros. movies, it was paint peeling, water leaking, and falling down. After the place was shut down in 1963 it fell quickly into disrepair, and after the Indians held it captive in the seventies, no one felt that it should be rebuilt, and by letting it fall down was even cheaper than tearing it down. And when it became a national landmark in the seventies, it still was not restored, but left in its eerie mystique. Besides, when it really gets unsafe, just close it down. And be stuck with only the tour of the bay. Still more than the inmates got.

If you are left with only one impression of Alcatraz, it is one of isolation. True, it's an island, and true there is no other reason than the prison to go there, but you are isolated in, and from the world. And to really get the full effect, you are allowed to go down into the isolation cells. Horrible rooms, less then four feet wide, with no light, where you were thrown naked, with only a pot to go in, and with no protection from the cold. Dark and wet, with only the breezes from the bay for company. And at night, the wind was said to carry the sounds of night life the mile and a half from San Francisco, and have a tortuous effect psychologically on the man in the hole. Isolation from life, and all it has to offer. No way out past the double doors. All the comforts of home with no comforts.

But isolation works both ways. And for a place named after pelicans, you would think of it in terms of being free. But although you could be in isolation from the others, they were also isolated from you. Protected from each other, sort of speak. Like my new riding boots, they don't let the rain and cold in, but don't let the heat out either. Isolated, yet insulated from the world, and what is going on out there. A door that could swing both ways, but swings neither. Also isolated from the truth. And if you watch the Birdman of Alcatraz with Burt Lancaster, you could almost feel bad for old Robert Stroud, until you find out the truth about him was not quite the story told in the movie. He was a unrepentant child molester, who used to throw feces at the guards. Not quite Burt in the film. But sadly, Hollywood seldom has regard for the truth, and being isolated from the truth can have eternal ramifications. Deadlier than the for the ones in isolation in prison.

Fortunately God is truth. But because of sin, we are isolated from Him. We cannot get to Him unless it is through His grace in the form of a person, Jesus Christ. Sin separates us from life, as the view from Alcatraz illustrates, but also from God. And He is patient with us, that no form of prison we are in, will He let separate us from Him. Walls and bars cannot hold back the spirit of God. And for those who believe, Jesus is a welcome pardon from sin, and death. But to those who have not yet repented, He stands ready when you call. Ready to pardon you from all sin, and welcome you into his eternal arms, and the peace that surpasses all understanding. And sadly without Jesus, we are in a form of isolation, where we cannot get to God, but He can get to us. That is why knowing Jesus is the most important decision you will ever make. And that without Him,the spiritual prison walls we live behind will never be broken. Walls without bars, a spiritual prison with only Jesus knocking at the door, wanting to come into your life, so He can give you life. Truly a life sentence if you would. But also being fully pardoned from your sin. No longer isolated from God, but now insulated by Him.

Between Alcatraz and the city was a 1.5 mile watery chasm that separated freedom from prison. And no one escaped it. Just as no one escapes hell without Jesus. Consider that now. Do I really want to go to hell? God sends no one, if you do it is because you rejected Jesus and His gift of heaven. God is offering you a complete pardon from sin and death right now. No parole or even probation. But a total pardon where when the books of your life are opened in heaven your sin is never mentioned. Like it has never happened. Your choice. Isolated from Jesus, or isolated from sin? The choice is yours.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

from the people who gave us fine Corinthian leather-and disco

If memories are the remembrance of past occurrences, what do you call the things that happened but you don't remember? Or won't? Faded memories, or selective non-recall? Or the two words OJ's maid made famous, "no recuerdo." Fortunately, or un, as the case may be, we have a lot of no recuerdo in our pasts. And recently reading some old car magazines that were new once, I remembered. See if you do too.

Where have all the Chevettes gone? The car that Car and Driver called the "most important car Detroit has ever built," they built 100's of thousands of them. Mary Ann Sears had one, and when we rode in it together we were shoulder to shoulder, never did see anyone in the back seat. When is the last time you saw one? Pintos, Ford built 1.2 million of them the first three years, have you seen one lately? Remember the Vega, which gave proof to the scientific equation that oil and water don't mix, especially when leaking from head gaskets trying to seal iron and aluminum. Ford sold over one million Granadas, they were so Mercedes Benz like. Have you seen one lately, the Granada that is? How about Plymouth Crickets, an unholy alliance with the British, and forced upon Chrysler franchisees. The Austin Marina? FIATs, never Fiats. Capital letters that stood for Fix It Again, Tony. Opel Mantas, great cars, my friend Cooper had one, but sold through Buick dealers, and usually never found in their showrooms. Only stuck in a corner by the office supplies. In an age when any car with a wheelbase shorter than 110" was a compact-compare that today with the same wheelbase being a midsize, they created sub-compacts and their market overnight. And they were sub in many ways, and compact in more ways than size. Maybe that is why we don't remember them, as they were to cars what aluminum cans were to Coke-disposable. No one recycled then. No deposit, so they never returned.

And how about the onslaught of Japanese cars? Cars that prior to OPEC would only sell in Tokyo by proxy, you needed to prove you had a parking spot before you could buy one. Cars so small, tinny, and impersonal, they made you remember your toothbrush with more romance. Truly unforgettable machines, that took no therapy or drugs to forget. Gone and forgotten. But yet, we forget it was the fuel crisis, not the demand for better cars, that brought us all these forgettable machines. When you asked "what do you have under the hood?" was replaced with "how many mpg do you get," the romance had started to fade-very quickly. Even faster than their mediocre 0-60 times, which now were 0-50 because of the 55 mph speed limit. Cars that had more in common with golf carts than go karts, and we all rushed to get one. But couldn't wait to abandon them and get back to the real thing when the scare was over. For there are girls you take home to mother, and the other kind of girls-these cars never met anyones mother! And who do we have to thank for all these thankless cars?

Not the manufacturers, small cars meant small profits. But the US of A government. Once again here to help. Mandating 55mph speed limits, and instituting mpg laws-CAFE, the government did to cars what the Volstead Act did for gin-made them illegal. Trying to legislate morals, they only made the problem worse, and allowed criminals to flourish, except the automotive criminals did time on the street, in their underpowered, unromantic, and now forgotten cars. Can youimageine Bonnie and Clyde in Pinto? In a time when the battle was against oil and grease, we made it a battle between flesh and blood, and we continue to pay the price today. No one thought to pray or ask God then what to do, and I still see the remnants of that today. For our battle is still not against flesh and blood, but against evil, and is carried out on a spiritual level, only the battles are fought locally. Flesh and blood just happen to be the wrong battles we choose to fight in.

The Bible calls these law makers evil rulers of darkness, and don't realize that if you are not under the power of Christ, you fall under their power. Just one look at the headlines on crime, abortion, murder, bailouts, and other assorted crimes, reminds us that Satan is still the ruler of the world. But God is still under control. So rejoice, for Satan's end is coming soon, and who you align with, God or the devil, will tell us if you won or lost. For like the above cars that no one remembers, God will not remember you either if you deny Him. Simply put, He tells us if you do not represent Him on earth, He will not represent you in heaven. And we all face a judgment day after we die, it is important to know the only one who can save you-Jesus Christ!

Today is the day of salvation, and the time to get real with God. Or be abandoned to the scrap heap of life like the cars of the 70's. Cars no one has collected, or even wants to remember, for they represent a time in our lives when freedom was taken from us, and laws replaced it. Like ants at a picnic, they are only remembered for what they did, and more fondly remembered by not being remembered at all. Don't let your life end up like that. God promises life abundantly, but you must choose to take it. No CAFE laws, speed limits, or gas shortages. No Chevettes or four wheeled vehicles disguised as cars. Walking in His spirit guides you into all truth, and you can see the way through the situation, because of what lies ahead for us-and gives us a true hope and a future.

Put on the full armor of God, for He has made provisions for the battles to come. And will take us victoriously through them! And watch as true freedom becomes your true life, as the world's forces loosen their grip on your lives. Let the spirit do what no law could ever do-give you a hope and a future, with precious memories to go with it. America called it the "Spirit of '76!" We call it the Spirit of God!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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Lord, he was born a Ramblin' man

When my Grandma started driving again in the early sixties, she bought a used, pink 1955 Rambler American station wagon. From Ronco Rambler Motors, and Pat Ronco, sales manager, janitor, service manager, racer, and the owner. And when she bought her successive Ramblers, a blue 1962 American 2-door, and finally a 1969 Rambler Rogue, she went to Pat, and Pat knew what she needed, and would say "this is the car you are looking for, Mrs. Mohn" and without pushing it on her, he was right. For my Grandma had confidence in Pat. And pat knew his customers. When the car wouldn't start early on Sunday morning in knee deep snow, Pat would come and take care of it. And even when he was into his seventies, he would still respond to my Grandma's roadside request, and other's like hers. To her, he was American Motors. And even though the tag on her car said made in Kenosha, the relationship with the factory began and ended with Pat, he was the factory to her.

My parents bought three cars from Pat, and I can remember going with them on Saturday mornings. An old brick facade, painted silver with red plastic letters, the highlight for me was the shop. The back shop to be precise, and walking past the huge, sliding doors, the smell of old oil, gas, rubber would fill the air, an ambrosia to those of us who liked cars. You see Pat was a jalopy racer, and R-12, his race team, was where the jalopies he raced at Nazareth were kept. Silver and red, like the building, Pat was the factory to Grandma, but was racing to me. He always seemed to be coming from that back room with R-12, and I don't remember ever seeing him not in overalls and with an unlit cigar in his mouth. Somehow behind the overalls and cigars, this man was Rambler. A Ramblin' man if you will.

Just down the road a mile, was O E Labar Hudson. A working Hudson dealer,who never turned in his franchise when Hudson joined Nash in 1954 to become American Motors. He had new parts still on the shelves, and ads in the showroom about the new Hudsons. Serviced his customers like Pat did, and even kept cars on the floor, which he was glad to show me after he found out how much I loved Hudson, too, and wasn't just some kid wasting his time. It wasn't my fault American Motors was formed the day I was born in 1954. "This was Mrs. Roth's car," he would say, "she traded it on a new 1953, that had belonged to Mr. Reimer, who sold it because his wife wanted a convertible," and that was how all his cars were referred to by their previous owners. No units or stock numbers, for his customers, and their cars, were real people to Pat and O E, whoever he may be. From date of purchase, through no start in snow storms until the time to trade up, and then onto its new owners, they were precious customers, and treated with respect. Both dealerships a true anachronism, dealerships that should have died in fifties, but still were alive, on life support, into the seventies. From the factory parts, to the two rare 1947 Hudson pickups he used to haul coal and car parts, to the cars on the floor, he was a Hudson dealer, even if Hudson had died 20 years earlier. Personal service, on a Mr. and Mrs. basis. Signs of a simpler time, a living museum to both Hudson, Nash, and Rambler until both men died, and with them their businesses. Along with a whole generation who were used to service like Pat's. Sadly, no one left to take their place in the communities they served faithfully for so many years. No more deals made on a handshake, or free jump starts in the snow, and only the memories of past super service to share with others.

We are told to trust God, and not lean on our own understanding. A great example found in Pat. I can't tell you about him and God, but his honest attitude to my Grandma and his customers, allowed them to trust him, and stay his customer for life. No way would she ever have bought any other car except a Rambler, and only from him. Their relationship was built on trust, she knew Pat would always give her the right advice. And I find today, that to walk strong with Christ, to call yourself a Christian, takes the same kind of trust. The trust that when you get bad news, that the same God who made the body will heal it. That he knows you when you're sleeping, and awake, and doesn't care who may be coming to town. His love is real, and He wants to be your God for life, and forever. I could never imagine my Grandma questioning Pat's judgment with her Ramblers, but yet we quarrel with God when we don't get our way. "Wait," He'll tell us when we ask, but in our impatience we fret, and only after we disobey see why He said it. "No, my son," gets greeted with a why from us, which really means "don't you get it God?" When really all we need to do is trust God, trust His word, trust the Spirit, and lean on Jesus. For like Pat, He doesn't want to lose you as a customer, and sad many have turned away when they don't get their way. And end up with a lesser god, at an impersonal church or religion, and never enjoy the love and blessings God has for them.

I have heard God is always there when I need Him, and can vouch for that. But will go on to say He is even there when I don't realize I need Him. Closer than even a prayer, He is 24 hour life service, never late, always on time, and always has the right parts and tools to fix my problems. Remember that next time money is tight, or health issues invade, or when your marriage is suffering. He is there for you! Take His advice, for Godly advice only works when taken. And be a frequent visitor to His dealership. Stop by parts, look at the new models, and go to the back of the shop with Him. Behind every old facade once beat the heart of a dealer like Pat. Don't let the facade of the world change your attitude about God. He was there in the beginning, and will be around long after the end. Stay close to Him, He has stayed close to you.

My Grandma always trusted Pat with car problems. Isn't it nice to know that God cares about all our problems?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

blue highways-you're welcome

For years I have been telling people about our travels across the US of A by taking the old back roads, Blue Highways, William Least Heat Moon calls them in his travel diary of the same name. Roads not usually taken anymore since the Interstate Highway System has by-passed many of them. Roads that take you to places the freeways can't or won't, and with each little town you pass through a memory just awaiting you, if you have the right attitude and the time. Places that are referred to as before the four laner went in, or By-Pass, or local traffic only. Roads that take you past buildings like Bate's Motel, and you wonder, naw, that was just a movie, wasn't it? Or places where only local old pickups are in the gravel lot, and you wonder if their Home Cooking sign really means it. Is that really bacon and coffee I still smell at lunch time? Places where the sun and rain has weathered the signs so bad they are almost unreadable, but just follow the grooves in the road to tell you that you are heading the right way. A ride in a time and place where neither matters, where each turn takes you to new experiences, and new people. Little towns where the local drive-in thrives despite the new Burger King next door. Where Chubby Chucks outsell Whoppers, and always will. Where Friday nights, the DQ is still open late for those who need a Blizzard before bed, after a late football game. Where teens still cruise the lots, trying to look cool. While the girls pretend not to notice, and giggle. Places that don't show up in any government demographics, almost as if they and the people don't exist to a bureaucracy. Except at tax time, and when it comes time for elections. Where the proper answer to thank you is "you're welcome," and not "no problem." And you wonder why I wander away from the freeways?

Since we have abandoned much of our history of manufacturing, and become a service oriented society here, service has taken on new meaning. Leaving messages that may not get returned, or being put on hold when you call the emergency number listed, are foreign to many of these areas. It is not unusual to see lights on in many old service stations well after closing, and hear the air tools and the sound of repairs still going on. Maybe helping a neighbor get ready for their trip tomorrow when something broke at the last minute, which is when they usually occur, or helping some stranger, out of luck and money, just get back on the road, that much closer to their destination. Places where Frank at the Bi-Low will refer you to his friend, then call him to tell them you are coming out, even though they are closed, just to get gas. And finding Willy, his friend greeting you, and staying to talk, then calling his friend at the motel, to get you a special rate on a room, since it is too late to ride any further. America we used to call it, and before we pushed buttons and got a recording when the phone was answered, before GPS systems got us lost, and before we became too sophisticated to smile at strangers, this is how we lived. And how I still choose to live-home or away.

We were in Santa Barbara, with Brett and Jeff from Vegas, and Tom and Karin from San Diego. Our friends Milt and Jackie had ridden with us for awhile before their V Max seat threatened to cripple them, and had turned around in Coulterville, on the way to San Francisco. It was Memorial Day weekend, and we were getting into our motel in Santa Barbara way late. So when I phoned ahead, I was told no problem, I'll leave your keys under the mat. We'll settle up in the morning. And left the hot tub on for us!

The next morning Brett noticed the master link on his Ninja was missing. With no shops open on this holiday Monday, he was about to go into panic, when I decided to talk to the owner of the motel. He and his father in law were finishing some carpentry work, and stopped to call to see if anyone was around. No luck. Then he suggested, "I have a friend with a welder at a body shop. How about I call him and see if he can tack weld the link and you won't have any problem?" Which he did, and which he did, and which we were all thankful for. And the welder friend wouldn't even take any money. He was glad to help, and all involved told us to stop by next time in town. Can any billboard or ad ever be more effective than friends helping friends? Word of mouth...

When we are taught about the Good Samaritan, I always think of these guys. New friend or old, it didn't matter. There was a need, and they met it. Gladly, sacrificing time, and money to get the need met. And the pay, knowing they did a job and did it well. More talk for around the dinner table that night, and new friends they didn't have yesterday at this time. If you see a need today, meet it. God would not have let this person in your life if He didn't want you to help. Be a good American, no, be a good Christian and show love to strangers. Be a friend to a stranger, for we were once all strangers to God, until Jesus showed the way. Do unto other, as you wish them to do to you. When the phone rings, pick it up. And like the two truckers in Ohio assured us, we'll "git 'er done."

Jesus got 'er done on the cross. Is it too much to ask to extend that love to a stranger? Among the many franchises out there today, I don't see one on love. Start one. Small investment, with big rewards. Oh, you may never get rich, but that will also save you on taxes! But you will never be short of friends.

Give thanks to Jesus, and wait to hear His proper answer. You're welcome, my good and faithful friend. Welcomed by Jesus, any problem with that?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com