the Goldilocks bike or a tale of three Bonnevilles

This story is not really about the girl made famous in lore, who couldn’t decide whose porridge she liked best, or whose bed slept the best, and left a mess after finding neither to her liking, but of a choice we are offered everyday, and today’s choice is of which Bonneville is the best for me.  Having put thousands of miles on the three new offerings from Triumph, I feel a bit qualified to add my two cents to the equation, and my personal insight.  When Triumph shocked the motorcycle world back in 2001 with its long awaited new Bonneville, of which I have owned five, life was great, the ego was fed, and there was nothing like the feel of a Triumph.  So we were a bit suspicious, almost apprehensive when we heard the announcement that three new Bonnevilles would be replacing them...blasphemy.  But after riding the first Street Twin, the entry bike, both our remaining Bonnevilles were put up for sale and sold.  We were still apprehensive after reading the specs, but after riding the bike, it was a given.  Unlike the ticket I wasn’t given on my first day out, the CHP will attest to its ability to cruise at 85 mph.  And no ticket given, because he couldn’t understand the Georgia distributor plate on a bike in California.  And how a press bike got here from Georgia without being ridden here....But the 500 miles I put on the silver Street Twin for a Rider cover shoot that day convinced me, and after letting Theresa ride it she agreed, “we want one.” 

A choice of silver or red had me riding one of the first Thruxton R’s in the states.  WOW!  Power, handling, and love those Brembos.  And comfortable to ride, and after repeated blasts of 120 mph, still got over 44 mpg.  Not the 55-56 I got on the Street Twin, a completely different ride.  Triumph had done it...and I wanted one, but still the Street Twin tugged at my hearts strings.  I felt like Goldilocks, too much power, better gas mileage.  $8700 or $14,500?  Do I really need to go that fast, but the handling and the power, what to do?  For now, just ride the press bikes and enjoy.  Until the T120 hit, and given a black one, now knew how Goldilocks must have felt.  Just right, but not at first.  For at first the bike seemed boring, too smooth, too smooth a power delivery, not quite the brakes of the R, not the racy look, but the Bonneville look we all know and love.  Great torque, and such a good, refined bike, I wasn’t sure.  If only I hadn’t ridden the other two, the decision would be easy, but I had, what to do?  And yesterday after riding my third T120, and talking with a friend who is a multi-line service manager, non-Triumph, I let him ride both the Thruxton and the T120.  Blown away by the Thruxton, his reply made sense, “this T120 does it for me.  Triumph got it right, this is the bike I want.  It’s fun.”  And you know, he’s right.  For him.  And probably for me, the Goldilocks bike of the bunch, not too much, not too little, just right.  But somehow I know a red Street Twin, or maybe silver, is in our future.   Maybe this Goldilocks chick wasn’t so anal after all.  Too many choices to choose from, all acceptable, but one fit her the best.  Now if only we can get her to clean up after herself, and not invite herself into some one else’s home uninvited. Never before has the slogan let those who ride decide been more apropos to riding a new motorcycle.

Just like we all ride at different levels, we each walk at different levels in Christ.  And I find that a good foundation when first saved makes a difference.  I was raised on 2 Corinthians 4, talking of how we need Jesus everyday, and how just because we are saved doesn’t mean everything will be fine.  That we will have trials and tribulations daily, but that God is adequate in all things.  And no matter the challenge, Jesus is up to it.  I was given good fundamental teaching, that was applied.  An application of education that I would need everyday. With an emphasis on the holy spirit, and how without the spirit to give life, we are still in bondage to religion.  Spend a few moments in that chapter, it may change your walk.  Jesus applied, what a concept.

Having spent most of my walk in a church that emphasizes teaching of the word verse by verse, I may have gotten a college education without the degree just by attending church.  And many of my contemporaries have grown in Christ like this, but fail to get it all, basing it on the education instead of the application.  Countless hours and years of teaching, but never getting out like Jesus said into the world and spreading the gospel.  Truly saved, and studying to be approved, they lack the testimonies of those out living it, and although they may have a scripture handy for each situation, may have never had to apply it to themselves.  They lack a testimony of being there, and miss a side of Jesus that the trials and tribulations let us see.  Knowledge without wisdom, the seat of their pants worn out from sitting long before the sole of their shoes from ministering.  Maybe even lukewarm, which made Jesus sick, remember he threw up over lukewarm Christians. 

And so while some read about it, and some are out living it, another group find solace in religion.  A rote walk with Christ, choreographed, non-threatening, and traditional.  That old time religion that was good enough for mom and dad, but was it?  Is it?  We’ll tell you what to think, how to pray, and you won’t need to read the Bible.  Sit in your pew, be well thought of on the outside, but silently rotting on the inside.  All three groups saved, but only one enjoying the full fruit of the spirit.  Of which meekness is one of.

All bikes are equal at idle, it is only when the throttle is twisted and power applied that it goes anywhere.  Meekness is that power applied in a Christian walk. Having all the promises of Christ available, but walking in the spirit, the fruits are of God, not us, and when applied via the spirit we grow, we testify, we see lives changed, and Jesus lifted up.  By the spirit.  And that choice is available to all who are saved.  Yet some live like Goldilocks, unhappy and seeking something better.  I wonder, what would she have done if a third bed, a third bowl was not available, leave?  Don’t some leave the church for the same reason, seeking but not finding?  Yet some desire the power of a Thruxton, with better brakes, but never go fast enough to need them.  To appreciate them, they live a moped walk and are miserable.   They read about better bikes, but never will know, for fear cancels out any growth.  Sound familiar, how much of Jesus do you really want?  With all the choices available, which one does the spirit guide you to?  Are you even spirit driven and not know it?  Has religion boxed you in, and only the spirit is the way out?

Where the spirit of the Lord is there is liberty.  We choose, and I want all I can get from Jesus.  To see people saved, healed, lives changed, but by his spirit.  I desire a deeper walk, to mature in him, to be an effective witness, but cannot do it without the spirit.  I want all the power, all the handling, and all the brakes I need when I need them.  If Jesus were a motorcycle, what would you be riding?  Or would you ride at all?  Seek Jesus today and be fed by is spirit.  Come alive, and when a pastor teaches on getting out of your comfort zone, tell him you are comfortable in the spirit, and don’t want to leave it.  Finding all you need in him.  Go past the ads, past the testimonies and get to know Jesus for real.  And grow in grace as you never believed possible.

As for now, I have a new T120 in the garage that needs miles....Lord give me wisdom!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

renewing my lack of faith in the GPS

Now somewhere up in the Central Valley lies a town by the name of Dinuba.  Well off the celebrated Hiway 99, and hidden among the orange groves, corn fields, and almond and pecan trees, it intrigued us enough last spring to visit it, and found it to be a growing, vital community in the valley.  All the offerings of So Cal without all the traffic...sign me up.  So breakfast it was to be Sunday morning, as we found a place well thought of on Tripadvisor called “Three finger Jack’s”.  We noted the address, found our way, and had an enjoyable ride for the next 45 minutes, getting hungrier by the moment.  Once in town, Theresa used her i-mistake to have the GPS direct us, and it did...until it took us into a neighborhood and told us we had arrived at our destination.  If we were looking for a neighborhood and not breakfast, which turned out to be at the golf course a half mile away, on the other side of the street.  Renewing my lack of faith in the GPS, and delaying our meal.  Now in normal times, we would have looked for an alternate, but being car bound, she typed in the address, and we were almost there, and within minutes were parking at the clubhouse/restaurant.  Not quite what we had expected, it was much better, and we parked the Mustang among all the pickup trucks in the lot.  We were getting closer...

The buildings done in a 1930’s craftman’s style were beautiful, inside and out, with the smell of green grass.  We were greeted, sat, and looked out over a fairway.  Food was excellent, try the special, 1970 prices, and all this eaten at a golf course, and neither of us play golf.  And we almost missed it due to new technology giving us direction.  From a place to a place I am sure the programmer had never seen, let alone heard of.  Trusting a 3x5 screen...give me a map any day.  And a pay phone, or be daring, ask a local!  But we found it, and no one was injured. 

Sadly like the internet, too many of us trust whatever it says.  Like an email I got this morning, please respond immediately, I have a certified check for you from a deposed government official.  Wonder if that guy knows better directions?   Did it take a GPS to find me, and will they cash it in Dinuba?  So many have fallen for this, and even if you turn them over to the police, they just move on and try the scam again.  It seems there is always someone willing to gamble with a fortune to be made, or a breakfast to be eaten.  Maybe blame it on being in a car, and not riding.  Blame it on being rural, we were.  Or on the Republicans, but I prefer travel by motorcycle, folding maps, and face to face when I need information.  So please, if I ask you a question, or for directions, don’t whip out your i-something....or we’ll both be lost.

I was interrupted some time ago by a woman who told me I was being judgmental, “no I’m not, I’m describing you.”  I then asked her “why do only people caught in sin accuse us of judgment, and aren’t you doing that yourself, judging me?”  The name she called me was unprintable here, but we talked later, she knows me better.  I was just describing her and her situation, homeless, lost and hurting.  Not how she wanted to be.  Wanting to help, and she knew it.  And she became a regular at our Bible study.  Her reaction is normal, admit it, none of us like to be judged, maybe because we all share the same sins.  And yours are easier to see then mine, so I’ll blame you.  First. And as a moral people, we tend to think we are above pointing a finger at others, and get defensive when it is pointed at us.  But we truly all share common sin, and as Paul writes, when you condemn an other person, you are also condemning yourself.  Huh?  But you don’t know what he did, what he said?  But God does....and we all are sinners falling short of the glory of God.  Some are saved by the blood of Jesus, while others claim their own system of salvation, but we all enter this world the same way, as sinners.  Our choice is to choose how we leave the earth.  And so we try to elude the fact we are sinners, will continue sinning, and even deny the salvation of Jesus.  Our actions and attitudes telling God we know better, as we know ourselves, don’t we?  Or do we?

I an born blind to the truth, even to myself.  We tend to hide the areas we don’t like, or hide them from others, hoping they see a façade of us instead of the real us.  A Facebook equation, brag and lie, post someone else’s photo,and hope you never meet.  And that the other person is not doing the same!  So we are blind, sometimes by choice as to our real selves, and what we accuse others of is because we recognize it so well, and won’t admit it is us we learned it from. 

So why others lie and cheat, we bend the truth a little.  Others betray, we are protecting our rights.  Some steal, we borrow.  Some are prejudiced, we have convictions, and some sentences.  Some murder and kill, we exploit and ruin.  Many times in God’s name.  Some rape, while others have a bad date.  But again we all have the commonness that Jesus died for, we are sinners who need a savior.  And he is the one!

So when I describe you, am I painting a self portrait?  Am I really that bad?  Drop your stones, as those who thought they had not sinned were instructed to do, and ask forgiveness.  Then forgive others, and lastly, the hardest part, forgive yourself.  For if you don’t, how can you love others like the Bible says if you do not love yourself?  Forgiveness opens the door to love, and being loved.  A map of more than coordinates, a real picture of who and where we are, and also where we are going.  With alternative routes, but only one leading to Christ.  So next time someone accuses you and you tell them “you are making such a big thing out of nothing,” remember how we condemn others when we accuse them.  Final judge and jury...off with their heads.  Aren’t you glad God is God and we aren’t?  And Jesus came to save and love?  And forgives?  And somehow despite our best arguments, loves us just as we are?  So get the whole picture, not just a i-something view of life.  And of Jesus.  Go deeper than religion, ask the spirit to guide you closer to him, and hang on for the ride of your life.  For man programmed a GPS, only the spirit can program your life, for he knows the plans for you, plans for success.  And for not getting lost.  But when you do, he is right there with you...he not only knows the way, he is the way.

And Sunday morning it was two non-golfers eating a great breakfast at a golf course overlooking a fairway.  Finally finding the spot despite help from above-a satellite that is.  And being in a car.  Despite all the odds against us, we still found the place.  Don’t let religion be as hard as finding a place to eat.  Jesus is as far away as right now, for he is always with us.  Even when lost, he knows just where we are.  And when we accuse others....well he knows the truth about us.   “But you don’t understand,” you argue.  And you do?  Just be glad Jesus does.  That’s grace.  And why we should say it before every meal.  Or action.  My lack of faith in GPS being renewed by my faith in him.  Truly we all are guilty of the same things.

And thats a three fingered fact...Jack.   If only they knew we rode....

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

the weekend before the end of summer

Summer for us as kids traditionally lasted about ten weeks, from the middle of June until Labor Day.  For those ten glorious weeks we were kids, until our first jobs at age 16, the legal limit in New Jersey.  It meant sleeping in, staying up late, sitting under street lights telling ghost stories, a daily trip to the Sweet Shoppe for your candy refill, and where do I ride my bike today?  It was a time of freedom, maybe a yard to cut or help your Dad wash the Rambler, but it was freedom from books, teachers, schedules, and homework.  Your time was your own, depending on who you hung out with and what they wanted to do, but you could always say no and go your own way. Which was rare, because the times you did, something cool or fun would happen and you would be the only one that missed it.  So hanging with the group it was...

Summers are hot and sticky in Jersey, and without houses having AC, we were out all the time.  We didn’t know it was hot, we were kids having fun, we had no bottled water, no i-phones, and we hadn’t discovered girls yet, so the fun to be had was unlimited.  Play all the kickball you wanted, build the new tree fort you had been talking about, or hang out at the park, under supervision.  But in our neighborhood, it was tree forts, and all the kids who could hold a hammer, no matter what age, participated.  And with the new housing developments going in where the woods used to be, we found free wood laying on the ground, we had the younger ones pick up the nails, and made numerous trips after the construction day was done.  We only returned home for supper, would miss lunch, maybe make a run for chips or Good Humor, but the day at our personal construction site dominated.  With one particular tree house that  stood out from all others....

It is a skill to build a tree house, finding the right trees and their arrangement makes all the difference.  And we found three trees, and changed our standard box to a triangle, the trees so perfect that each kid had a floor of his own, or paired up with another.  We learned so much in building our own forts, and we would need all of it this supreme effort.  It took a week, sourcing the right wood, picking up the nails, and battling the heat and rain, but soon we were done, a sight to behold.  I was lucky to pair up with Kenny, he was 16 to my 9, and we had the top floor, and his fort building was without compare.  Seems older kids know more about these things, and our floor was all the talk.  We had arranged for the lower floors to have crawl spaces at alternating corners, and you entered your level through them, and soon the fort was full of interior decorating, and filled with Archie comics and flashlight to read them by.  Ghost stories would be told, the Betty or Veronica debate would ensue, and discussions of our next teacher, who had the best bike, a rumor of candy going from 5 cents to six, and the older guys talking girls-YUK!  But in every neighborhood, there is one kid who is different, the butt of jokes, and he comes by it honestly.  We weren’t nasty, but kids got reputations based on dumb things they did, and one kid, who we called Carm Booby was about to go down in Algonquin Drive history. 

Carm was older, was fat, and bullied some of us younger kids.  Think of Lumpy Rutherford, that was Carm.  He didn’t play sports, he harassed some of us, but had one quality that made us avoid him altogether, he stunk. His BO was so bad it preceded him, he smelled something between bad pizza, a cat box, and an old locker in gym class.  World class BO, and he enjoyed it.  And because he wasn’t invited to build a floor in the tree house, he was upset.  And wanted to visit....and chose a time when most of us were at home, I say most, as Kenny and I were in our top floor penthouse.  When we smelled the smell, and heard the grunting, we knew, and there was no way out.  Carm was in the house...and as he squeezed his fat BO riddled body through the crawl spaces, the odor got worse, and we were trapped.  Even if we could get past him, which we couldn’t, the smell would have killed us, I was to young to die at age 9!  And as the odor became overwhelming, his head, then his upper body appeared in our crawl space, and as he tried to wiggle through, we were cursing him, and begging him to go back, and then it happened.  He got stuck!  Only his arms, and from the chest up were exposed, but that was enough to almost kill us with the smell.  He was stuck, we all were stuck, and we had no way out.  Who to call, who would answer?  And if they heard us, would Carm’s BO foil any rescue attempts?  I wanted to go home, and wanted to cry, more from the smell than from the fear, and the picture of a stuck Carm still haunts my memories.  Trapped....

Until Kenny pulled out a hammer, and starting taking off the roof.  As sunlight peeked through, so did fresh air, and soon the roof was off, we could see blue sky, but what to do with Carm?  We could climb down the trees outside, he was still stuck.  And then it struck us, we had to free him, no matter how disgusting he was, or what it meant to our fort.  The roof already gone, we started to claw away at the floor around him, until he could wiggle free, and we watched from above as he finally made his way out.  And a breeze of fresh non-Carmetized air recussitated us.  In a short few minutes, Carm had successfully destroyed our fort, one which none of would ever return too.  Our work was over, it was ruined, and the legend of Carm grew, who we never saw again, as the school year started next week, Labor Day weekend, then back to school.  Where homework, would fill the void Carm created in our summer, he was in junior high, and soon we would be onto other things.  But every time I smell bad salami, a cat box, the kid who needs his diaper changed, or a chicken farm, I think of Carm.  Not the way we wanted our summer to end....taken out by one kid, with no shots fired.

As kids we had prided ourselves on being kids, and when in trouble, there was nothing our dad couldn’t get us out of...until we got home.  Rome at the time of Paul was without peer, maybe the most sophisticated and successful society until that time.  There was nothing they thought they couldn’t get out of.  They had military power conquering any who stood in their way.  They built  series of roads to travel through their empire, and devised aquaducts to carry water to homes.  They had great lawmakers and statesmen, great artists and sculpturers, they could write and create art.  They had power in and over society, with one exception, they couldn’t tame or change the heart.  They couldn’t legislate morality, men’s hearts were still evil, and they couldn’t end slavery, both physical and mental.  They tolerated the Jews, and Paul wrote them from prison, sharing the gospel, telling of a power they didn’t have, that could only be found through Jesus Christ.  A power that exposed sin, but provided righteousness, forgiveness, and an offer of eternal life.  Things their superior government couldn’t do, the biggest one, changing the hearts of men.  They were powerless, until Paul pointed out the gospel, and how it had the power to change things they couldn’t and we still can’t today.  It is the spirit that gives life, and all the king’s horse, with all the king’s men, had no power compared to it.  It promised a power that could not be bought, conquered, bartered for, or legislated.  It was based on love, God’s love for us through his son Jesus.  And Paul was both anxious and proud of the gospel, the power to change men’s hearts and lives, to make us righteous and acceptable to God, just as we are.  By the spirit, without firing a shot.  He told of a righteousness from faith, and that faith is only the beginning, not the end or a one time occurrence.  How we are accepted by him in love, and every time we encounter trials, that same faith is there to see us through.  He loves us as we are, he just doesn’t want to leave us that way.  The gospel reminds us of Jesus, how it is open to all, and restores us to God.  Even guys like Carm.

Taking off the roof to escape ruined all of our building.  The fort was never the same.  God’s escape route in Jesus is different for each of us, with the same results, salvation.  And like our fort, you will never be the same, and you go on to other things.  Leaving the things of youth behind, but not the memories, for in the memories are the basis for testimony, the starting point from which we come.  The end which we will never see.  Eternity doesn’t end like summer does at Labor Day, it goes on and on....in the gospel of Jesus Christ, of which Paul wasn’t and we should not be ashamed of.  We hated Carm for who he was, and what he did to our fort, but didn’t leave him behind.  Jesus went back for the one in 99...for you.  And if you were the only sinner, he would have died for you.  That’s love, that’s the gospel.  Simple enough so we can get it and relate it to the things of life, which was why Jesus taught in parables, nothing hidden from us.  And free, so we can afford it, and unlike the wood and nails we scavenged for, it is right here, right now.  Today could be your day of salvation, you cold be stuck like Carm was, with now way out, and Jesus is offering the way?  It might change your lifestyle, your attitude, and friends, but it brings righteousness.  Are you up to the task?  He is!

For I am not ashamed of the gospel, good news to Jew and Gentile, kid and adult alike.  Even the kids who get stuck in your crawl space and ruin your plans.  God loves them too....can you?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

what if Honda built a Buick?

The late seventies were not a good time for the automobile industry.  Interest rates of over 20% slowed sales, on cars that were slower due to emission laws manufacturers were trying to deal with.  And so we saw many badge engineered cars, designed in the seventies and unleashed on the public a few years later.  It looked like the seventies would never end, and the eighties would just continue the onslaught.  Remember the Citation/Skylark/Phoenix/Omega mistake by GM?  Cars so poorly designed you couldn’t reach a spark plug without taking out the engine.  Or so poorly made they had to be fixed before they could be sold.  Yet they sold in the millions, but where are they today?  Were they the spark we needed to recycle?  Just the opposite was going on in the motorcycle world, as bikes were going faster quicker, and Honda even made a 6 cylinder, no not a Gold Wing, that was to come.  But a true inline 6, transverse and wide.  Heavy and quick, fast and pricey.  That never sold in great numbers, Honda often built bikes just because they were Honda and you weren’t, to show off their engineering.  Eventually they had to scrap the idea as too much for the market, and as warehouses had filled up with lesser unsold motorcycles.  Remember 24-30% motorcycle loans?  If you could get one?  But another Honda motorcycle, born in the early seventies was maturing into an icon, and about to be the design all other touring bikes would copy.

Honda surprised the touring world in 1975 with the Gold Wing.  4 cylinder flat opposed motor, shaft drive, and no fairing, bags, radio, or plush animals.  It was a motorcycle, and a fast one at the time, running in the 12’s, it was fast and smooth.  My friend Geno bought one of the first ones, converting from BMW, which we both thought he would never do. And immediately rode form Jersey to Albuquerque with his cousin on the back to see me.  With just a duffle bag ad tank bag for both, enough for their 3 weeks on the road.  But the seed was planted, and Craig Vetter soon built Windjammers to fit, bags were engineered aftermarket, sissy bars with plush animals followed, and finally the factory took over for what the aftermarket had started.  And today, in its 41st year, the only way you can buy a Gold Wing is with a 6 cylinder, full fairing, bags and trunk, rear seat with arm rests, sound system with CD player, cruise control, an on board air compressor, and optional air bags.  If you hadn’t known I was talking motorcycle, you may have thought Honda was building a Buick  For with the exception of two additional wheels, has all the features of my neighbors Buick, and costs almost as much.  How far have we strayed from the basic two wheeled premise to this?  Add a trailer hitch, and you can cruise comfortably with your home behind you.  I can only imagine if Buick built a motorcycle, or do they need to, as Honda already builds Buicks?  Let those who ride decide...

But I have many friends who ride them, as well as Harleys, Victorys, and other big bagger touring bikes.  I rode an new Indian Chief, powerful, but it handled like a wheelbarrow in gravel.  Heavy.  Do we really need another half ton motorcycle?  Especially when after 7300 miles in 26 days on an adventure bike, we were just as comfortable, rested from not wrestling with a half ton car/bike, and it handled, got great mileage, was smooth, and quick.  And at less than half the price?  Is it possible maybe I am onto something here?  And no, we didn’t take a plush animal with us...everything we needed, nothing we didn’t, including the complications and the weight.  No radio, but I will admit I liked the cruise control.  Which only works up to 100mph...oh well...

And so over the years have tried to make my life simpler, like the bikes I prefer to ride.  We are down to four motorcycles, from nine.  And other life considerations are being dealt with.  It seems downsizing is a good thing, and as there are fewer people we want to impress, we get by with fewer things.  How many overbought their homes, now the kids are gone, do you really need a 3000 square foot home for two?  Our Costco bills are way down, we no longer need to buy in bulk, and we are trying to lose some of our bulk.  I like to think we live smarter, it only took a lifetime to get there.  And I like my gospel simpler too.  A few years back I sat through church services that had to fill the hour.  And got bored, and my mind wandered, thinking about riding.  And I began to question, “why can Billy Graham speak for 20 minutes and the altars are full, when after an hour in church so many rush to the door to leave?”  What does Billy know they don’t?  Maybe his message is so simple we can get it.  And free so I can afford it.  It gives me the chance to know Jesus, to avoid hell, and to become a Christian.  Is it possible we all have the attention span of a 5 year old when it comes to the gospel?  Or has church been turned into a Gold Wing event?  I attend a church with over 90 ministry opportunities, yet so many are looking for somewhere to serve.  Are there too many items on the menu?  Been out to eat lately, you cannot get a hamburger any more unless you order one without cheese, giving a new meaning to do you want cheese on it?  Have we gotten so sophisticated and grand we have missed the simplicity of the gospel?  How many know John 3.16, but are stymied with 1John 3.16?  Which tells us, “by this we know his love, for as he loved us, we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren.”  Have we missed the point of the gospel?  Did Jesus ever set out to build a Buick for religion?  Are we locked inside our Buick, protected, comforted, isolated, and separated from the holy spirit that led us to Christ?  Is your comfort zone found in the things of the world, or in the holy spirit?  What are you comfortable in?  Has the world built a church and we don’t know it?  Or have we adapted so much, that we need overheads, comfy seats, programs, processes, procedures, and meetings to tell us what the spirit is already showing us?  Is your life filled with useless accessories, or do you simply want a hamburger with no cheese?  Do you want a Honda that isn’t a Buick?  Or a Buick that isn’t a Honda?  What are you seeking from God?  Think about it...

Jesus came to save.  It makes him the savior.  He came to comfort via his spirit.  He came to heal, to lead, to forgive.  To be your friend, to counsel, to protect.  All in one easy to accept package.  Which can be shared in less than 5 minutes!  Do we love as he asks us to, or are we stuck in the rough still learning all we can hoping to get closer to God?  Or do our actions truly represent what we believe, and hope no one is looking?  Have you picked up your cross and followed, or is it locked in  your saddle bags, somewhere?  But I do have a Jesus sticker...

Jesus showed love many ways, we can too.  He listened, he ate with others, he walked with them.  He studied, he visited, he became friends with them.  And still does today.  Lay down a few minutes today, and listen to someone who is hurting.  Maybe just lonely, overwhelmed with life.  Who bought a motorcycle and got a Buick.  Who sought love and got religion.  Who are looking, but not finding.  Who know the scriptures, but don’t know the gospel.  Who go to church, but aren’t saved.  Lay down a few minutes for others, and soon it becomes a habit.  Think about it, spreading the gospel by listening?  Isn’t that how we started, how we heard it, by listening?  To what the spirit had to say?  They will know of the love of Jesus by our love for them.  And it works both ways....

Riding behind a windshield blocks the wind, the spirit is rushing wind.  Has Honda really built a Buick and we don’t know it?  Love in deed and truth, put miles behind your words.  And you don’t have to take out a loan to afford it....you bought the ad, did you get the right product?  And you wonder why GM went bankrupt. 

love with compassion,

Mike

you mean he fixes motorcycles too?

It all started on our way back from visiting Frank near Portland, Oregon.  Where they have sun breaks.  A noise was coming from my rear wheel on my old Tiger, sounded like brakes.  But checking the pads, they were like new, and the noise so intermittent, it was hard to locate.  But after riding within 350 miles of home, the noise got louder, and then the back wheel started to wobble.  And a quick glance told me the rear wheel bearing was coming apart.  Never a good thing, especially 300 miles from a Triumph dealer.  And so I called Mick, my towing service had agreed to tow it to him, he would order the part.  But he soon called back, Triumph had no parts in stock for it...so what to do?  He suggested I call Shel, the national service manager for Triumph at the time, and see if he could help me.  I knew Shel, and how we met was interesting, our connections even more so.

I knew Bouke, who knew Rick.  Shel worked for Rick at one time, and he knew Mickey.  I knew Mickey, and Bouke, and also had hung out at Rick’s, the local Triumph/Kawasaki store in Bound Brook, New Jersey.  Bouke was the fast guy back then, still might be, and everyone at the shop knew him.  And since we hung out together, I gained access to Rick’s, and was one of the guys.  Which when Shel told me he once worked at Rick’s, and knew Bouke, instantly put me on the inside track.  And since Mick and Shel are best friends, and Mick and I are good friends, I was in good standing from friends past and present. Which in an emergency, is a good thing, for you can never have too many friends.  So I called Shel, who called England, where the bikes are made, and he called me back.  He had been in touch with them just before they closed, they are 8 hours ahead, and they had no stock.  It seems no one had ever needed to replace a rear wheel bearing on one, and they didn’t stock them.  And even engineering at the factory had no specs to offer.  Despite all my connections, no parts, and not even information about the bearing was available.  Was I stuck in Paso?  Was my final ride home on a flat bed, my bike riding behind me on it?

So I called the local tow company, who wouldn’t do it, a 700 mile round trip didn’t interest him, meaning his pocketbook.  So not giving up, my insurance company said they would pay for a rental truck, so back into the phone book to find a one way rental.  Good luck.  But I did find a guy sympathetic to my cause, and when I described to him my situation, explained he was an ex-Honda factory trained mechanic.  He had left the city for a more peaceful life, and did motorcycle repairs, rented trucks, and fixed whatever came into his shop.  He could fix my bike he assured me, and called me later after picking it up at the motel I was stuck at.  He had ordered the part from Honda, it came in a kit, and would have it the next day. He had measured the bearing, crossed it to an industry number, and found it would fit.  Seems he knew more than the factory.  And for all of $91, parts and labor, including the tow, which he did for free, since he was doing the repair.  The bike was apart, when the part arrived overnight on the bus, he would have it when he opened, he would install it, and we could return home.  Which he did, which we did, and passed on the info to Shel in case he ever needed it again.  And by 11am we were on the road.

I have been told and tell others, sometimes it is who you know rather than what you know.  And despite all connections, the one person working behind the scenes, hasn’t been introduced yet.  A loving God, who we call Jesus.  Who too many times is the last person we call on.  Seems we are too busy worrying, or planning, or doing things our way to stop and pray.  But God already has things under control, even rear wheel bearings for a Triumph.  Before we had a problem, God knew it, and had made arrangements to handle it, and he did.  Over the years I have known and dealt with many service managers, and parts managers.  Guys who were very good,and would use their connections, favors as we called them, to get people back on the road.  But we forget that Jesus spent most of his time on the road, and was prepared for our emergency, even if we weren’t.  That nothing surprises God, even if it does us.  And he is always the best, the first, and sometimes the only one to call on.  When I asked someone, “what were the chances of all the people I knew coming up empty despite their connections, but yet finding a Honda mechanic who knew the part and cold fix it 350 miles form a Triumph dealer,” what would you think were the chances?  When the answers came back as anything from a long shot, to good luck, to a million to one, my answer differed.  “100%.”  For with God, it is always 100%, while all these guys had connections, Jesus was and is the connection.  So when someone tells me the way, I know him personally.  I was looking for the way to fix my bike, he was and is the way.  You mean Jesus fixes motorcycles too?

And he gave sight to the blind with no degree.  Made the lame walk while not an orthopedic doctor.  In him doors will open, and also close when needed, and he can fix anything.  But you must let him.  Despite my best efforts, and friends willing to help, he was the way.  And got me to Paso so I could get my bike fixed.  It could have happened on any of the 9000 miles I had ridden that month, it broke in Paso.  Where a rental truck company was owned by an ex-Honda mechanic, he knew a part number, and had it fixed.  In one day.  And you wonder what were the chances?

Today we will face many problems, tests, obstacles, and trials.  Some we can overcome, some need prayer, some need an answer right now.  Maybe an example of an old mechanic who worked for me at Mercedes Benz said it best.  A woman came in with no AC, and he lifted her hood, replaced a fuse, and it started working.  She was amazed, thankful, and asked “how much do I owe?”  His reply, $20.”  “Twenty bucks for a fuse?”  “Yes” he said, “but I knew what fuse...”  Whether fuses or bearings, no matter what the world throws at you, go to Jesus first.  He calls me friend.  Nothing surprises him....does that surprise you?

love with compassion,

Mike

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