when the road throws you a curve

We were on our way to Canada on our Sprint RS, leaving St. Helena on SR128.  Leaving the light an Eddie Lawson Replica, ELR Kawasaki passed us, and the ride was on.  We tried keeping up ,but this was his ride that day.  But following his lines we were never far behind, and when we were, he would slow in the straights and wait.  A guided tour of a road I have ridden many times since, but never with such vigor.  A friend and riding partner I never met, but would recognize the back of his bike from anywhere.  We were riding on Skyline Drive, this time in the Shenandoah Valley, when we stopped at a rest stop, taking a fog break.  We were on our Sprint ST this time, and moment later another one pulled up next to us.  After a brief exchange, seeing our California tags he offered “follow me, I live here, this road is my back yard.”  And for the next 45 miles rode faster than I had ever imagined on this 45 mph speed limited masterpiece.  Taking his lines, I rode over my head at times, but if he could do it, so could I, and we did.  When he finally slowed to turn off, a wave and he was off.  Skyline Drive would never be the same, and I never got a chance to thank him.  Penny was a patient of Gerald, and she rode a BMW.  Gerald wanted a BMW, I had one, so he hooked us up for a Sunday morning ride.  She decided on South 10 through Tijeras Canyon, a new road to me.  She was fast, and I could keep up through the curves, until in a straight a Z-1 blew by us.  Too much for Penny to take, in the next set of curves she and her R90/6 blew by him, and then proceeded to leave him behind.  I followed close behind, but far enough away should either one crash-they were haulin’.  We all stopped at a gas station, and when she took off her helmet, and the Z-1 rider saw her long blond hair and that she was a girl, he took off.  The embarrassment too much for him.  I just smiled, and to this day every time I see a blond pony tail hanging out of the back of a helmet I think of Penny.  Fast girls and motorcycles...she was quite a lady.

Don had just bought a new Interceptor, and need to break it in.  So we decided to ride a loop over Wolf Creek Pass, at the time a dangerous two lane road, even a hit song was written about by C. W. McCall of Convoy fame.  I was following him when we came upon a car, and both passed him at high speeds, then I passed Don.  Later that week when we stopped in Handlebar Cycle, Gary the manager was telling of two bikes that had blown by him on Wolf Creek.  He was the guy in that car.  When Don said “that was me, “ Gary was impressed.  But when he was told I was the crazy sucker passing both, my KZ750 got new respect in that Honda/Yamaha store.  The Interceptor was as close to a race bike as you could by...blown away by a Kawasaki.  And for years Gary would tell the story, introducing me as that guy on the other bike...never mentioning it was a Kawasaki. But we knew.... I had been asked to attend a ride for the new Ducati Diablo, sponsored by Cycle World.  Some 20 of us with varying riding backgrounds would take a great course from the coast to Escondido on back roads.  The group leader was Mark Cernicky, an editor from the magazine, and he was to follow.  I always ride from the rear, letting the group get ahead so I can ride harder, and soon Cernicky and I were alone, he saw what I was up to and joined in, and we were having fun.  The ride was a great course, all curves,  and coming into Escondido, the last turn was marked at 15mph.  An easy 30 mph turn for me, but looking to my right, here comes Cernicky, all crossed up flat track style passing me.  Our conversation at the stop sign was one word from me, “bored?”  He nodded and we rode back.  The others had ridden a new bike, we had taken a ride.  Telling Mickey later, he kept telling “don’t ever let him ride your bike, he crashes.”  Looking back I could see that, but for me that day the Diablo went from cruiser to race bike riding with him.   Who said riding a cruiser has to be boring?  Mick had lent me a Rocket 3 Roadster for a few days and I rode it to a local bike night.  While talking with others we noticed the feelers on both foot pegs worn off, and part of the foot pegs too.  Whoever had this last rode the wheels off it.  It was then noticing the license plate, bent from doing wheelies that I really had a new hero.  An 800 pound cruiser with more torque at idle than a Harley has max, and it handles too.  Another lesson from the road of when it throws a curve at you, ride it.

Now if every road was straight and smooth, we wouldn’t need suspensions.  But life is like roads, and we need Jesus to carry us through.  Not always as much fun, but definitely challenging.  Now the roads may not be straight and narrow, but the way to Christ is.  No surprise left hand turns, no off camber turns, and no lane ending suddenly.  The road is straight and narrow so anyone can make it, just follow Jesus.  But then life throws us a curve or two, and we cannot ride it out, and crash.  Or get so scared we never ride again, or worse yet figure “where was Jesus when I needed him?” and leave him behind.  So they either go their own way, or live a cautious life within the church walls, never seeing all of Jesus, or what he has for them.  Straight and narrow, and boring and unchallenged.  No surprises, and no blessings either.  And they get upset hearing of what Jesus has done in your life, sometimes becoming jealous because you are blessed and they are not.  Many times their choice, stay at home or ride safe roads.  Slow in the turns, cruise on in the straights.  Never passing anyone, but many passing them.  Things going well, then life throws a curve at them, and they find they are only about 6 inches deep in Christ.  Despite all the teachings, Bible studies, and seat time in church, they know all about Jesus, they just don’t know him.  And wonder why he has abandoned them, at the time they need him most.  Truth is he hasn’t they have turned their backs on him.  And he is still knocking on the door, offering hope and help.  You see the gospel is straight and narrow, easy so I can get it, and free so I can afford it.  Yet life isn’t so kind, and we need the kind of heavenly suspension that only Jesus Christ can provide to get us through.  And when riding with him, the ride becomes more exciting, more fun, and more places we never knew about.  He is life and  life abundantly. And the testimonies and times spent with him help encourage others to get out and ride.  Get out and live, get out and into Jesus.  Life abundantly, enjoying the curves and not avoiding them, picking new lines in Christ because now you see the whole road.  The blinders are off... and so can you be. 

Coming down off Wolf Creek into Pagosa Springs, I stopped at the top, and noticed how the road disappeared, then reappeared being lost in some curves.  Not being able to see what was in the next blind curve.  And God spoke to me, assuring me he does know what is around the next curve, and when following him and taking his lines, we are safe and secure.  And enjoying life more.  Maybe you won’t ever wear off your foot pegs, you may never scrape your floor boards, but life will still throw us curves.  So I take the advice of Kenny Roberts, racer extraordinaire, if too fast into a curve, keep leaning.  Don’t panic.  Works in life too, too much curve and not enough of you, lean on Jesus.  Don’t panic, he doesn’t, and the thrill of having him with you only brings on the desire for more of him.  An excitement not found on the sofa,  so if you must sit somewhere, sit where you are comfortable.  For me it is behind bars, handlebars, with a full tank of gas, lots of curves, and plenty of time to ride.  Get the most out of life in Christ, and the most out of your ride.  And if you come upon a blond pony tail sticking out of a helmet, pass and wave.  Theresa will wave back...fast girls and motorcycles, and she’s always a lady for me.  But you have to catch her first....if you can’t beat ‘em, marry one.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

life before 50 and after 80

Many a great ride has started dressed in layers on a cold morning.  By 10am the jacket comes off, and by noon the sweatshirt allowing you to ride in comfort the rest of the day in just your specially picked t-shirt.  And the real good ones go into the evening, retracing the process, but in reverse order.  Arriving home with the same chill you left with hours earlier, but with miles of great riding in between.  Having ridden in everything from below zero to 124 degrees, I can attest to the need to dress in layers, as any rider will tell you.  There have been days where I never thought I would get the jacket off, and days I never thought the one I brought along I would need.  But I am glad I did in both cases.  One 4th of July going over Wolf Creek Pass on a Z-1 sans windshield I was in a t-shirt, three days later following a snow plow with everything I had with me on.  But with great riding all the time.  Yet here in So Cal we have been so spoiled by the weather, many don’t enjoy dressing in layers.  If they had to it was either too hot or too cold.  It was reinforced when talking with a friend who had just bought a new Harley, his first without a windshield.  And one ride below 60 degrees had him setting his limit for riding below that there.  He froze, and later confided he had on his leather jacket.  “I don’t know how you guys ride in cold,” he told me.  Now I don’t do windshields or fairings unless it is in my truck.  Riding to me means in the wind, and even the small fairing on my Tiger deflects some air, yet leaves me in the wind.   Yet riding on a new Trophy SE last winter, on a warm 80 degree day in February, we left Riverside in t-shirts, and taking the long way home over Oak Glen, where the onboard thermometer said, 53, we were still comfortable.  So maybe those barns missing their doors do make great fairings, I still prefer to dress in layers.  There is life before 50 degrees, and also 50 years of age.  Sometimes you just have to use what you learned early to ride comfortably today. Yet for some the price of looking cool, when really being uncomfortably hot wearing leathers and chaps in 80+ weather tends to make them cold when they are really needed.  Form over function, I prefer jacket over sweatshirt.  I just hope they enjoy the ride as much as I do.  They are missing out on some beautiful sunrises and sunsets.  But in between when the weather changes, I am reminded of a couple from Maryland we met putting on our rain suits outside of Gettysburg.  A sudden downpour had a few of us under a gas canopy changing, and I will never forget what he told me.  “The weatherman said 50% chance of rain,which meant 50% chance of sun.  We chose to ride not taking a chance on 50%.”  Amen, and amen.  Dress for the conditions, lots of great riding below 50 degrees...and the new Tiger XCx I had last week even had a warning light for frost, which came on at 39 degrees.  Have to trust them on that one, still too warm for testing that this winter.

Many a great ride has also been interrupted by coming up on traffic, causing a jam.  And being embarrassed when you finally pass them and finding it is a group of motorcycles, riding just below the sped limit.  Maybe just as bad for public perception as the guy wheelying past at 70, but this crowd interruption always makes me wonder why ride at all, if you don’t ride for the conditions.  Like the man I know who has his motor built, dynos at almost 100hp, a lot for a Harley, but never goes above 80.  What a waste of money.  Yet will drone along at 60 across South Dakota, when we travel above 80 in less danger of causing trouble than him.  Interstates were designed in the fifties for cars to go over 85 mph, even your old Harley or Triumph would run it 60 years ago, so why not now.  Life is a blast over 80, and 90, and at 120 yesterday airing out my old 1978 GS1000.  It felt good, and no animals were hurt during the ride.  No tickets either, not bad for a 60 year old man with a plastic aorta on a 37 year old bike.  So what’s your excuse?  Too cold, or just too old?  Or do numbers like speed and temp control how and when you ride?  I think of all the great rides, roads, meals, and good times I would have missed if dictated by rules and regulations.  If riding isn’t any fun, why do it?  Remember the freedom you just told your friend about, well do you?

Dressing for the conditions is nothing new.  The first set of leathers go back to the Garden of Eden, when God sacrificed animals and made clothes for Adam and Eve.  Not for cold, but to cover their nakedness.  A far cry from the scantilly clad girls at Sturgis only wearing chaps...for protection of course.  But lets consider the weather at the beginning, perfect temperature, no rain, as a mist watered the garden every evening, and all they had to do was get up and live every day.  Freedom like no others have ever experienced before, or after, as no sin meant freedom, and no laws to bind them.  But with sin came a covering, and with a covering came a sacrifice made for them, and soon laws came, and PETA followed.  And more laws, more protests, and less freedoms.  Laws made for dress, to eat, of who to hang out with, and how to worship.  A rule for everything, and with more rules to break, brought more rules broken, and more sin.  But fortunately laws were given for forgiveness, just so you obeyed them, or else.  Sometimes not sure if you really were guilty or if the sacrifice was enough.  You lived in doubt, should I ride today, is it too cold?  Or where can I ride where there are no speed traps, just waiting to ruin my fun.  Exacting a fee for breaking the law.  And that’s it, breaking the law exacts something from us.  A fine, jail time, losing your license, or worse yet, giving up riding all together.  Temps and speed limits arbitrarily set to limit all God has for us.

And then along comes Jesus to set us free.  Free from the law, but also to free us from sin.  To be forgiven, to go 66 in a 65 zone, to ride below 50 degrees, and enjoy life.  Not quite on the par of no sin like in the garden, but soon in heaven we will enjoy that.  Oh if Adam and Eve had only ridden, maybe they would not have sinned, and look at the great weather we would have today.  But they did, we do, and so Boston is waist deep in snow, floods in San Francisco, and droughts in So Cal.  Even the weather has turned against us.  Forcing us to dress in layers, or stay home.  Our choice, to be bound in leather like Adam and Eve, or stay home and be imprisoned in sin.  Don’t let a 49 degree day ruin your blessings.  We can be free in Christ when we turn to him.  And live like he wants us to.  Loving him first, then others as ourselves.  For no man hates himself and loves his brother.  Add compassion to that, respect, and a brotherhood forms, and we see why Jesus told us if a man needs your shirt, give him your coat too.  So he can get out and ride and enjoy life.  To be encouraged in love, and not be bound by numbers, laws, ego, or perception.  That love is there, sometimes in the form of a coat, like the one Dave and George carried of mine bungeed to their bike, forgetting it was there,and wishing they had it all the time while freezing.   Jesus is there, he never left despite the temp, or speed, and will guide you through.  He may be just as close as a jacket bungeed behind you, or the windshield in front of you.  But you must let him into your life....and them something wonderful begins.  You enjoy the ride more than ever before.

So many times we area asked “how do you find all these places?”  Simple we get out and ride.  Works with blessings too, you need to get out into life where they are.  Don’t live life bound by laws, be bound by love and enjoy life.  Trust God and live, and ride.  Sometimes we ride to eat, and eat to ride.  Some live to ride, and ride to live.  We are bound only in love, love only found in Jesus Christ, and we enjoy life to the fullest.  Because of him.  For some life begins at 50, and they miss out on what goes on at lower temps.  Some fear anything above the speed limits, limiting the fun and potential of their ride and life.  Jesus gives us fullness of life.  Sometimes one layer at a time, sometimes all the layers removed.  You will only know for sure if you get out and live.  Leathers don’t make you a biker, just a sinner needing a savior.  All have sinned, and fall short of the glory of God, so he sent Jesus.  Remember that next time you wear your leathers, God provided them for Adam and Eve first, and they didn’t even ride.  Today you can have forgiveness and ride with grade and mercy with Jesus.  Dressed in layers of love, for every condition.  Some ride behind windshields, I ride behind Jesus.  I enjoy the freedom he gives, for the rest of you cars will have to do.  Never knowing what lies just the other side of the window.  Any questions, just refer them back to the garden. 

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

"nice motorsickle MIster, where ya from?"

It was one of those nights the old folks tell you it’s not the heat, it’s the humidity.  I had ridden across three states, and was looking for a place for the night, when I came upon an old motel, whose neon light flashed vacancy.  My kind of place, I got a room, and soon found that the old window air conditioner put out more sound than cold air, so went out on the front porch, where others were seeking relief.  Parked next to me was an old blue Chevy, with one white door, and an older couple with three teens, two boys, one girl, sat next door drinking grape soda.  “Nice motorsickle Mister, where ya from? asked the old man, who everyone called Grandpa, and he waved me over, offering me a grape soda from an old metal cooler.  I had wanted to be alone, but something told me to accept his offer, and soon we began talking, or he did. “Used to ride one of them motorsickles myself, right after the war.  A group of us all bought Indians.  The Harley guy never came back form the Pacific, and his wife had let the shop go.  Best $300 I ever spent”...and he paused taking a gulp of grape soda.  “We were gonna see the US, we had seen the world in the service, but slowly we drifted apart.   I married Ma here, and had a family, Joe moved to California, maybe you know his family,” as if we were all neighbors out there, “Bill went to college,got a real job, heard Carl died of cancer a few years back.  Boy the rides and times we had...” and his voice tailed off, maybe the visions of past rides took over for a moment.  He talked more of past rides, and soon the string of lights flashed off, telling us it was time for bed.  “See you in the morning,” I said.  “Doubtful, we’re gonna be on the road early,” and firm handshake confirmed all he had told me in his recalling old friends and rides that evening.  A night we both will remember.  And I felt like I knew his old friends.

I slept well that night.  Almost peaceful despite the loud air conditioner, and awoke with the sun streaming through the old worn curtains.  The old alarm clock on the night stand had its big hand just at 6, and as I got up to watch a pretty sunrise, noticed the old blue Chevy with the one white door was gone.  He said early, I guess he meant it.  As I squinted in the morning sun, I hoped he was heading west, that early sun can be brutal.  But he had never mentioned where he was going, he only talked of where he had been.  Even his opening line “where ya from?” didn’t ask where I was heading.  Reflecting on the old blue Chevy with the one white door, maybe his best days were behind him, his memories that he shared last night the highlights of his life.  40 years had passed since he rode, he had lost touch with all his old riding buddies, all recounted over a bottle of grape soda.  Somewhere in an old motel on the old highway that very few travelled any more.  Suddenly my new Yamaha didn’t look right, and for the next hour I rode before breakfast, I couldn’t get him out of my mind.  Somewhere in the countryside of Illinois our paths had crossed that night...I wondered if I would look back with fondness of my past like he did?  But today I was looking ahead....

It was one of the those February mornings where they tell of the wind chill factor back east, but for me it was bright sun in Laguna Beach.  I had stopped to spend some time alone and read my Bible, and found all but one bench empty.  A beautiful ocean view, I wanted to be alone, yet felt attracted to a bench next to an old man.  “Nice motorsickle Mister, where ya from?” he asked.  Before I could answer, he asked, “what ya readin’?  The Bible?”  And then he began to tell me about when he was younger, and his life was all about church.  “Remember Reverend Smith at the First Church over there?”  No I nodded.  “Man could he preach up a sermon.  We had pot lucks after the service each Sunday, his wife made the best fried chicken.  My wife used to make chocolate ice box pie....” his voice streaming off for a moment.  “Before she died.”  “We were tight, we loved the Lord, and many baptisms were held right here at this beach.  Our lives revolved around that church, we saw many saved and Jesus changed lives.  But one day the Rev got a telegram his son was killed in Viet Nam, and he was never the same.  It had to hurt him losing a son, and he never recovered.  Soon the church split apart, he was our strength, and he left town.  Never did hear where he ended up, I still went to church, but it wasn’t the same.  Haven’t been in years...”  Standing up, he shook my hand.  “Learn from an old man, stay close to Jesus.  At one time the church was my strength, and when it folded I was aimless.  Then Jesus came into my life, gave it meaning.  I had religion as we used to say, now I’m saved.  Stay close to Jesus young man, stay in the word, and let him stay in you.” And with that he was gone, and I was all alone.  Just like I had wanted to be, yet something was different.  His short testimony had been what I needed to hear, and just like the night in Illinois, with another old man, their memories shared with me were precious.  Both made me think, both made me reflect.  And I stopped and thanked God for coming into my life some 40 years ago.  How Jesus had changed my life, and was still changing it.  This morning again proving him. 

In both cases the conversations started off with where you from, both ended giving me hope for a new day.  Two moments in time, separated by 30 years, but connected by riding a motorsickle.  Now some may call these a chance meeting, a coincidence, but I know better.  Maybe not an angel, but when needed, God always sends someone along at the right time.  Sometimes I travel back, but after I am faced with looking ahead.  And realize what a bright future I have because of Jesus Christ in my life.  No religion, and no regrets.  A hope and a future.  No matter where I happen to rest my head, or sit.  In both cases I had wanted to be alone, but God provided company I didn’t know I needed.  After spending some time with the Lord, I looked for a place for lunch.  An old taco shop got my attention, a grape Nehi sign, faded and worn seemed to beckon me.  “Do this in remembrance of me,” Jesus said of communion.  And I had spent precious time with him, one in remembering, the others their memories.  I don’t remember the taco, but I do the grape soda. And the night with Grandpa with the old blue Chevy with the white door.  Grape soda and pretzels we had.  Communion we had.  Nothing fancy, certainly not religious.  A time that Jesus set aside for both of us to be ministered to.  A time when both could remember, when we both would remember.  Maybe it really is in the small details, when we aren’t looking for him that he appears.  He tells us he never leaves us, nor forsakes us, I can tell of more to verify that.  But these two will do for now.  Maybe you have some precious times when God intervened, just to show how much he cared.  Live life in remembrance of him, commune with him daily.  “Nice motorsickle MIster, where ya from?”  Let the testimonies begin.  And I know where ‘m going. 

love with compassion,

MIke

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

to each stupid action, there is a stupid reaction

The other night a man confessed to me his first crime was breaking into a school, and spraying graffiti.  Leaving only their initials in paint to claim victory, they couldn’t understand why the police caught them.  How did they know their names?  They had only left their initials...There I was riding along at 136 in a 55 zone, when I got pulled over.  Who was I to blame?  Where is a riding partner when you need one?  Another night my friend was found sleeping off too much wine in his truck.  When he responded to not knowing about any accident, when they brought him his rear bumper with the license plate still attached, his brilliant response was “I don’t know.”  Another time we ran from the cops at over 100 mph, and when asked why we ran, Bouke told them “because you were chasing us.”  And he bought it, actually he was, he admired our bikes, and rode fast himself.  And loved the answer.  I don’t think this one ever got recorded in his daily log.  Who was to blame when BH wheelied and ended up on the trunk of a Plainfield PD car?  The girl he was trying to impress?  When Greg got caught stealing records, his answer was “I just wanted to put them in my car, then I was going back to pay for them.”  Sometimes though it is trick questions, like last name first, first name last, how many fail that test?  Or like my answer when told by an old boss to quit asking questions, I replied “why?”  It seems that to every stupid action, a stupid reaction is required.  When asked why he was shooting at the guy chasing him, his reply was “because I thought I’d hit him.”  Remember Inspector Clousseau petting the dog, getting bit.  “Does your dog bite?” he asked,  and after getting bit, the man behind the counter replied “no, it’s not my dog.” 

When the Byrds had a hit with Turn, Turn, Turn putting words from Ecclesiastes into tune, they could have added a time to be stupid, a time to be smart, a time to pull over, a time to run, and a time to answer and a time to shut up.  Not found in the original text, but true just the same.   But yet some events happen to us, without our OK.  Geno one time riding my R90S blew by in triple digits.  The look of horror on his face told me there was a problem, and after thinking to turn off the key, the bike came to a stop.  One cable to the Dell O’rtos had broken, leaving the carburetor in full open position.  But with still enough power after disconnecting it to ride 70 with only one carb.   How many have slammed on the brakes when the car started to skid, just adding to the skidding?  Ever caught with Oreo crumbs on your shirt, and chocolate on your face, denying you ate them?  We even had a teacher once that would catch us when playing Simon Says.  She would cleverly say “Simon says jump up,” and we would.  Then all be busted because she “didn’t say jump down.”  Simon says “$%#*& you.”  When asked if a friend would take a look at a car of mine not running right, his reply, “park it over there so I can see it.”  Another time I offered am, “can I lend you a hand?”  His reply, “I’d look awfully funny with three hands.”  But some of the classics come from MAD magazine’s “Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions.”  “Have an accident?”  “No thanks, I just had one.”  Well, it is said that humor is the purest form of truth....after a lunch with Marcia and her sister, where she was particularly funny, she was told to quit acting stupid.  “I’m not acting!” was her reply, and all of those offended now had to laugh.  So we all have quick quips, pre-practiced responses ready for whatever situation we may find ourselves in. 

But one question asked is “who is Jesus?”  The replies range from great teacher, rabbi, philosopher, author-although he inspired, he never wrote any books, religious man, and revolutionary.  But while all may have an grain of truth, the correct answer is he is God, and man, and the son of God.  Also the son of man.  Confused.  Don’t try to figure it out, just go with it.  He is fully man, and fully God.  The only way we could and can be saved.  Not a stupid question, but still lots of stupid answers.  With one funny one standing out.  A handwritten graffiti on a wall said “Jesus saves.”  And underneath it someone wrote, “and at today’s prices that is a miracle.”  If they only knew how true that is.  But he can save us from sin, from misery, from heartache, and from many forms of stupid.  Yet so often when we pray asking, we don’t wait for his answer.  Or worse yet, don’t like it.  And make it worse.  Even the Jews when  led out of captivity by Moses, complained about the manna God fed them.  And the shoes that never wore out.  Yet they wanted to go back to Egypt and be slaves, because the food was better.  Yet they entered the promised land and not Moses.  Even today many ask questions about Jesus, yet won’t listen or consider the truth.  Again this man who once sprayed graffiti, leaving his initials, told me God couldn’t save him.  Because he hadn’t seen him.  He felt seeing was believing, God tells us without faith it is impossible to please him, for believing is seeing.  The psycho field has a term for it, normalcy bias, because I haven’t seen or experienced it, it doesn’t exist.  Brought to you by the same wise folks who claim you are insane if you do the same thing expecting a different result.  Got me there.  Yet by denying God, they still expect to go to heaven, how can they believe in heaven without Jesus?  Maybe some quick graveside inspections might prove Jesus’ claim of resurrection.  His is empty, Mohammed is in his, so is Buddha.  So is Joseph Smith, and Brigham Young.  And yours will be full to if you don’t accept Jesus, by faith.  Yet many seek him, but don’t find.  They don’t want him, they want a genie in a lamp to take care of all their problems, no matter how self inflicted they are.  Some religions make you take a course, getting a diploma.  Some take works, some make no promises, but hope only there is no hell.  With God it takes only faith.  Believing in your heart, and not being afraid to tell what he has done for you.  But what if you are dumb and cannot speak?  To the dissenter, I offer the fruit of the spirit.  Love, joy, peace, patience, and the list goes on.  You will change and others will notice it. 

Where we once played Simon Says, maybe we need to remember what Jesus says.  “You must be born again.”  Makes no sense, physically you cannot be, but spiritually you must be.  So you can be, but not without Jesus.  Where you get stupid reactions to stupid questions, the answer to who Jesus is is never stupid.  And it is given with an open book test, no studying to be saved, just a change of heart, taking a chance based on faith.  Hoping, and finding out that he is the truth you were looking for.  Don’t get busted by being cute...only Jesus saves.

Some choose Tom Waits’ way, they rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.  Some would rather wait, after all they have time.  Isn’t Jesus just for old people and women?  How wrong can you be?  Thomas Watson founder of IBM once said he thought a market for only five computers existed.  Harry Warner wondered whoever wanted to hear actors talk?  Man will never fly, or walk on the moon.  The Mets will never win the pennant, and the Dodgers will be in Brooklyn forever.  Some may tell you it’s a tradition we never do in our family.  Some deny gravity, until they fall.  Do not deny Jesus.  He is fact, he is God.  Do not let other people’s opinions become a burden to you.  Going to hell is a self inflicted wound, your choice.  Jesus came to save.  Your choice.  And in today’s world, it is still a miracle.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com 

the million star motel

Perhaps the nicest motel/hotel we ever stayed at was the Loew’s Coronado Resort.  Now before you think I have gone yuppie, it was one of my accounts, and I got the employee discount.  Same as staying at the Marriott Resort in Sonoma when my son worked for them.  Again using his friends/family account we stayed at the Leland Stanford in San Francisco, and other places.  We felt it was about time he started paying us back, and his room discount was a start.  Sadly the student loans still loom over us, they may never be paid off, but that is another story...But when traveling we like to stay in old motels, clean and quiet, and priced much better.  Places where the owners greet you, motorcycles are welcome.  Where they don’t question why you ride, but want to know where your next ride is taking you.  And so over the years we have stayed in some interesting places, like the Lowe Hotel in Point Pleasant, West Virginia, not to be confused with Loew’s Coronado.  Those who know of Mothman lore and his legend may know of the hotel, and some come looking for ghosts.  And by some accounts find them, I thought  few of the guests looked a bit out of this world.  But when Theresa had woman talk to her about a picture of a ghost she had just taken, we certified her as crazy.  She had taken a picture of herself in a mirror!  How do they find me?  Another night we stayed in the Cedar Grove Mansion in Vicksburg, Mississippi, a wonderful place until the AC went out I our room, and we went searching for another room in the middle of the night.  We ended up sleeping in the most expensive room, in General Grant’s bed, and when telling the clerk the next day was told, “I’m glad someone had the smarts to do the right thing.”  Gotta love the south, then there was the week we spent one night in Hoboken, New Jersey, where the bikes needed to be guarded.  And the sign said if you don’t like the room, don’t pay, and we didn’t.  One night in Monterrey we even took our bikes into our room!  With permission of course, ever ride a sport bike down a carpeted hall?  I have.  But the gas smell from the bikes stunk so bad we had trouble sleeping.  So every night, every motel or hotel brings along an air of mystery, luxury, or premium, and the welcome a tired rider needs at the end of the day.  Some raise the bar, some so low you trip over, some you cannot give too low a score on Tripadvisor.  Like the night we slept with our guns on when the door wouldn’t fully shut and lock.   “Room service-boom!”

And so we avoid Motel 6, horrible, and find pleasant places like the Melody Ranch Motel in Paso Robles, Quality Inn in Tulare, and many other places where despite the traffic, they remember us.  And surprisingly we are welcomed back.  Motorcycles and all.  But the one motel that we avoid, the one no matter how many stars we don’t book a room at is the Million Star Motel.  Sounds promising, maybe a taste of old Route 66, but when arriving for the night I like a hot shower, watch some TV, and get ready for the next day.  The Million Dollar may have the view, just not the amenities.  The Million Dollar Motel is camping, and we don’t camp.  Give me Camp Marriott, or Camp Comfort Suites.  My kind of camping has four walls, AC, TV, and a comfy bed to sleep on.  But yet I have many friends who swear by camping, the last time I ended up swearing because of camping.  Funny the others don’t mind using our showers.  But for each weary traveler, a night awaits, some preplanned, some at the last minute, and some just along the road with a sleeping bag.  Laying watching the million stars, and wishing upon them.  To me, unlike the song, when I wish upon a star, it does matter where I are.

Solomon who was once the wisest person on earth, note he wasn’t the smartest, went searching for pleasure, which he seemed to think was good.  But found lacking, maybe too many Million Dollar Motels, maybe too many concubines, “do you have 1100 rooms for the night?” or maybe because he thought pleasure found in riches was the answer.  He found laughter and stories often strayed from truth, as bench racing was invented, along with the 150 mph Sportster,and as the night turned to morning, the stories grew in exaggeration.  He finds that pleasure is not fulfilling, please let me decide, or at least give me a chance to, just one night at a 4 star resort.  But for him it left him empty, something was missing.  It couldn’t be he didn’t have anyone to share it with, or the money to stay wherever he wanted.  It went deeper than that, and along the way found fame.  Which may get you a good table at a restaurant, but also brings attention to you.  It seemed the thing he really wanted was escaping him.  And could only be found in a relationship with God.  Today we have the chance to restore our relationship with God when we come to Jesus.  A reservation has already been made in your name.  The room is paid for, in fact a mansion awaits you someday, but you must check in after checking out.  You must put down the old things so you can pick up your cross and follow him.  And many nights you may spend in Million Dollar Motels, and others in 4 star rooms, but with him  all needs are met.  And the places you go are better than you ever imagined, or thought possible.  Yet some continue to go the same route, take the same trip every year.  Expecting a different time, and come away disappointed when it is just  rerun of last year, which was a rerun of the year before.  But as one who rides, we get excited about new roads and where they lead, just like in Christ we get excited when he takes us places in the spirit that we didn’t know about, or knew about but were afraid to go.  He has a trip planned for you, he calls it life, and he wants you to live it fulfilled, no matter how many stars.  Sadly Solomon eventually got burned out on all the things of luxury.  The rooms were nice, great food and service, but soon none of it mattered.  He needed more, and that more could only be found in God.  He could have been the first yuppie, yet he found the hollowness in things, and the comfort in someone.  Jesus is still that someone today.

Solomon ended up hating life, he became bored by it.  No excitement, nothing new under the sun as he put it.  But we know that there is something new in the son, when his name is Jesus.  We find we are a new creation, and the old man has passed away.  But we need to live like one, to enjoy all the blessings.  After my open heart surgery we travel much different.  But we still travel, and still with Jesus along.  The grass may have been greener on the other side of some fences, but there is a reason for that, and so we find places we may have passed by before.  Too much in a hurry, or places passed by on the way to some where else.  Don’t live like that, passing Jesus while on the way looking for someone else.  We all cannot stay at Million Star Motels, but we can all enjoy them when we see them from the creator.  When we look to the creator, we enjoy his creation that much more.  But you need to get out, out from the four walls of  home, of church, and of the funk you may be in.  You will never know until you follow Jesus.  Some of the best nights and rides caught us by surprise, but not God.  He had them planned, and has many more waiting.  God has given me the perfect travel partner in Theresa,  the ability and passion to ride and enjoy the open road.  Maybe now you can see why when I say “Jesus, Theresa, and motorcycles-it just don’t get any better!” means to me.  Your room awaits you, and whether four stars or a million stars, he promises you rest.  When you rest in him.  Not bad advice from a man born in a barn.  They say the stars at night are big and bright...deep in the heart of Texas, but no stars compare to the heart of Jesus. 

“Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur...”  Good night.  Sleep tight.  Don’t let the bed bugs bite.  Where I lay me down to sleep does matter after all. 

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

the very first Snowdown-I was there

Mostly I remember all the snow.  Lots of it, and for days that turned into weeks, that turned into months.  96 inches at one point in 96 hours, 8 feet in 4 days for those who went to public school.  And the winter of 1978 in Durango brought out so many cases of cabin fever, that the ones who make decisions on such things decided to have a winter carnival, Snowdown.  Get all the skiers, sledders, and snowmobilers out and have a weekend party at the end of January.  And so they did, and so I became a part of it, not sure if I remember how, but they asked me to sponsor some motocross races in the snow.  So I did, and never having seen a motocross race before, had my friend Pete help, he raced.  We were given a D-8 CAT, an operator, and for an afternoon laid out a track where Bodo Industrial Park is now.  In the snow and cold, while it was still snowing.  Only to find all the markers we had laid out were buried, and the ground too hard to move.  Frozen to about 18 inches down we were told.   So in desperation, on the Friday the day before the race, we found some flat land adjacent to it, and the D-8 moved snow and anything else it could, leaving an oval track with snow berms over 4’ high in places.  We had the track, but we forgot things like a pit area, places to park and watch, and where to put the ambulance they required.  We had no idea who or if anyone would show up, and what the weather would be.  But when we rose early that morning, the sun was out, the sports and weather girl told us a high in the 40’s, we were excited.  And when we got to the track, many riders were waiting, having set up their own pit area.  The race was on!

Around 40 race starved riders would show up, we even had one guy who wrote for Cycle World enter.  He was a pretty boy, with a van and a pop up, even had pants and jersey, where as all the others were in denim and flannel.  When he started to act like he was better, he was forced into a snow berm, and put out of the race...on the first turn.  These guys rode hard...and it wasn’t pretty.  But the day turned magical, for as the sun melted the snow it formed puddles, and the earth turned to mud.  So deep in some places that the bikes would get stuck, and the last straight to the finish was 200’ of deep mud.  But it was warm, hey it was 45 degrees, and we were riding.  And as far as spectators, we had so many fans show up we had traffic jams.  They lined the track, and at first it was out of control, or seemed so.  The snow mobile race was held right below us, and as the day went on, the snow mobile racers would park along the ridge watching.  And their fans followed, with only a few hard core snowmobilers left watching.  So few that the next year they moved their race, and made parking for us and places to watch.  The fans, the riders, and the snowmobilers loved it, with the last race of the day ending when all the racers got stuck in the mud, and people jumped out of the crowd and pushed them across the finish line!  It turned out to be one of the most popular events in an area where Purgatory Ski area ruled, but once again showed the brotherhood of bikers.  No one cared about the lack of prizes, Pete and I had eaten the free Big Mac coupons we were given, they had gotten out and ridden, something no one does in the snows of January in Colorado.  The weather had cooperated, and even though it snowed again the next day, for one brief shining moment we had motorcycle paradise. 

Being there in the beginning, I wish I had taken more pictures, and saved newspaper articles.  Seems my memory is a little tainted in some areas, time will do that.  Also being in the heat of the moment as opposed to just watching will give a different perspective.  So much was going on that winter, and although survival was at the top of the list, we needed to eat those free Big Macs, it seems we cannot get enough of history and anecdotes about what it was like.  Sometimes we think that it is all new for us, just because it is all new to us.  Durango had seen lots of snow before that winter, cabin fever was nothing new, and we learned why the older homes had doors to the outside on the second floor, with no porch.  So they could get out in the deep snow.  Yet we clamor for new adventures, it seems the eye cannot get enough of seeing, the ear enough of hearing, and the mind enough of exercising creativity.  Even as we get older, the desires to see new places is still there, even if the mode isn’t.  Yet we find Ecclesiastes tells us there is nothing new under the sun, life is all a rehash of what has happened before.  Think of it as once again for the very first time, and although life can be wearisome, we cling to it.  The stories being told to the next generation, the snow deeper, the temperature colder, and we were broker.  But there has to be something else to life...what is it?  The what is really a who in the form of a person, Jesus Christ.  For God so loved us, he sent him, to be the way back to him.  He either creates or allows the circumstances that we are in, and uses them to turn us to him.  Leaving the turning point up to us, never forcing his will.  So if you are just treading water in life, bored at work, at odds with your family, or putting off buying that new motorcycle, turn to Jesus now and ask him for advice.  It is called prayer, and after asking, listen, and you will know what to do.  Scripture tells us he will give us our heart’s desire, and when you make him your heart’s desire, the blessings increase daily.  They add up higher than the snow can, and with more to come.  Seeing life through his eyes allows you to see all God has planned for us. Which beats riding on a D-8 CAT in the middle of a blizzard, what were we thinking.  It was a free ride, but got us nowhere.  Except cold.  And frustrated.  Ever fell that way, Jesus is the answer.  Yet in our restlessness we cling to anything that comes along...

So many that are complaining today about the 40+ inches of snow in Boston will later brag about how they made it through.  The afterglow is brighter than the fire in or memories.  But why not have memories of how Jesus took you through, how without him you would not have made it?  Travel, ride, race, live, or even just endure life , and when he is added in life is worth the living.  Snowdown is now in its 37th year, all the old faces except for a few are gone.  Sadly so is Terry Feidler who was the heart and soul of it, succumbing to Alheizer’s.  The memories will be replayed but he will not remember.  And when we are gone, who will tell the story, before it is rewritten gently forgetting the facts of how it was.  I was there, and Jesus is still here today.  Blizzards will come and go, spring will finally arrive, and heaven awaits those that believe.  Eye has not seen, ear has not heard, nor mind imagined the kingdom that awaits us.  There are no travel brochures, no stickers, or t-shirts.  It is all about him, and the closer to him we get, the sooner we will see heaven, with a glimpse of coming attractions from him.  Don’t wait for the snow to buy a shovel, come to Christ now.  Mostly I remember the snow, but I know it was the Lord who blessed and got us through.  For one brief moment there was Snowdown...heaven is calling, what will your answer be?  By the way, January 1979 was the coldest January ever recorded in Durango, average temp. 22 degrees!  There are those that ride...and those that don’t.  The part you play in the memory is up to you.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com