angels, hookers, and sopranos

I have found some comic relief on TV the past two weekends. Although it was originally called drama, when placed in the setting of today, it is more comical than serious. The Sleuth Network on Saturdays has Old School Saturday, where they show old cop shows. Two weeks ago I was dazzled and amused by Charlie's Angels, and this weekend was TJ Hooker. Two shows I never watched when on originally, but couldn't resist the nostalgia trip, plus nothing else was on. These pre Rodney King, pre Kevlar, pre 911, pre Hill Street Blues police were almost funny to watch. And had more in common with each other than you would think.

Far fetched plots were the hallmark of Charlie's Angels, and I found it fascinating that more women watched them for the fashions than men did for Farrah's assets. The other two were flat. Whether watching Farrah in her starched, white nurses outfit fight crime, and never answer a call in a major metro hospital she is assigned to-hey maybe things haven't changed so much, to watching Kate Jackson foil a Polish defector by wearing thick glasses and talking with an accent, to Jaclyn Smith, who looked too much like Jackie Kennedy-she was the sophisticated one-they were stylish, drove Pintos and Mustang II's-remember mpg was more important than mph, and even the fourth Angel Bosley, Bos, had a hint of felinity about him. Only Charlie was the real man, who always seemed to have a babe in a bikini, with her drink on a lawn chair close by.

But the Hooker plot I watched was more of fantasy than anything. The channel guide said the Beach Boys were guest stars, so I had to watch. The following is the plot-please stay with me-this really happened-and we wonder why there was a TV void in the early '80s.

Romano, the teacher's pet, and recruit from Oklahoma had never heard of the Beach Boys. Oh yeah, he'll do well in LA. There they only have two types of music, country and western. So while doing beach duty and caught eying the barely, bikini covered girls of Malibu-"sorry miss, I'm not staring, just checking for concealed weapons" Hooker tells him the Beach Boys are playing a concert. So somewhere between the beach and the music, Romano has to go-promising to buy every one of their albums with his next paycheck. Must have been on the take already. When he finds the tickets are sold out, he hears Heather Locklear has a pair-of tickets, and is told no, she is taking a special man with her.

Enter two dumb as a rock thieves, who are going to rob the box office at the concert, on the day of the concert-does sold out ahead of time mean anything to them? There will be no money-no tickets will be sold. So nothing to rob. But somehow they try, and Hooker and Romano catch these two dribblers, and get free tickets to the show. And of course, Carl Wilson and the Beach Boys know Hooker, he used to surf with them, calling him Kahuna. He was also a champion hill racer in another show. And Heather's special man is her dad, in his sport coat, the police captain, and even Hooker has a date, a blind woman who was the only eyewitness to a robbery-sorry, I didn't make this up. But Romano is there, and with these squeaky clean police are standing in the front row, talking with the Beach Boys, I am not sure if I wanted to laugh or throw up. And I love the Beach Boys! Hey kids-your parents really watched this garbage-may answer a lot of questions you have about them.

But both shows have one thing in common besides pretty people-they are all single, even Hooker, who is divorced, his job is now his true love, and marriage. He has a teenage daughter, who he sees once a year, and sent her a birthday card last year, or was it his birthday this year?

In real life, a captain in the CHP told me, ten years ago, that the number one sexual harassment claim is men against other men. And as we watch how people are still single on TV, but have kids, or are openly gay, and have kids, we really see how far we have come, or more accurately fallen. And as weird as Angels and Hookers can be, maybe they had something there. Something we seem to be missing today- a trace of morals. And sadly, it is everywhere, not only on TV. We have become a nation of rules, because we have abandoned our morals. Tony Soprano is our hero now, how far from LA can you get? New Jersey seen through the eyes of a mob leader, and we romanticize about him. Who are our heroes? I meet people from time to time who do something, and expect special recognition-just for doing the right thing. Reward me, and I will be courteous, show up to work on time, and stay within society's laws. But what does it take to stay within God's grace?

Trust. Respect. Obedience. And a relationship with Jesus. Without Him, you are pray to all the evils of the world, and no rules will help or save you. Only His angels can protect, and no police force on earth can keep you safe. It takes Jesus to save you and no one else can. We laugh at the old shows, but when it becomes reality it is sad, and no longer laughable.

So why wait, Jesus is available now. "Ask yourself punk, do you really feel lucky?" Go with God, the plot is real and I already know the ending!

We win!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogpsot.com

Pontiac-they used to make great cars

They are referred to as Orphan Cars, cars that are not made anymore. Just a short decade ago that meant great makes like Hudson, Studebaker, Packard, Kaiser, and Frazers, all makes that died in the fifties. But in 2001, Oldsmobile joined the ranks, with Plymouth quickly following. And this year alone, three more joined them-Mercury, Saturn, and Pontiac. Cars either absorbed into the corporate line and not wanted, or in Saturn's case, an experiment that never paid off.

Fast forward 10 years to an old car show, with a grandpa walking with his 15 year old grandson. Both are what we used to call gear heads, they have a love of cars, and grandpa looks back to when cars were cars, and they told a lot about the guys who drove them.

"Grandpa, what's a Pontiac?" "They used to make cars, great cars, back in the fifties and sixties. They started in 1926 as a companion make of a GM make, Oakland, and soon outsold them. But in the late fifties, they started a "Wide Track"campaign, and were an early part of NASCAR and NHRA racing."

"Then in 1962, they took a coupe, and took off most of the chrome, added their famous 8-lug wheels, custom tail lights, and the Grand Prix was born. Boy we envied the guys that had one, luxury with performance. Then in 1964, a young, up and coming GM exec named DeLorean broke corporate edict, and put a big motor in a smaller body, and the first GTO was born. Car and Driver even did a comparison with the Ferrari GTO, and it beat it! 0 to 100 to 0 it was faster. And throughout the sixties, the letters GTO meant performance. Goats we called them, and they were fast! And so popular there was even a singing group, the GTO's! Songs, Little GTO, and GTO Tigers were used in anything from selling Thom McAn shoes to cologne."

"I remember 1969 when the Grand Prix was redesigned, long hood, short trunk, and anyone who was anyone up and coming had one. 428 cubic inches, luxury with high performance, you could even get a stick-a manual four on the floor! They also came out with the first Trans Am, built for a race series, with the SCCA getting $5 per each car sold as a royalty. My friend Lucio had a '72, the first car I ever went 120 in! I can still picture that air scoop sticking out through the hood, and the tach on the hood! A race car for the street! And when they sold 100,000 of them in the seventies, remember Smokey and the Bandit, they made serious money, before NASCAR became an entertainment business, instead of racing. Yep, Pontiac sure made some great cars. My friend Timmy in high school, always had access to one, his family owned Maxon Pontiac in Union, the world's largest Pontiac dealer. Boy, I miss the good, ole days."

Another grandpa and grandson are out for a walk. Circa 2020. "Grandpa, today in class we were talking about religion in America, and our teacher told us how the US of A was started, but told how the separation of church and state had changed that today. When we asked questions, she said to ask our grandparents, as they could tell how it was before going to church was frowned upon, and the government took away our freedom to worship. I think she is a Christian like us, but can't say-she doesn't want to lose her job like Mr. Benson did last year for telling about Jesus. Even though he shared it from an historical perspective, he talked about Him, one of the things forbidden under the new education program. What was it like 10 years ago before they abandoned Jesus, and made it a crime?"

"I think we all never thought it would happen, but it did. The Muslims came in, and no one thought to ask what their belief system really was. And because of our freedom of religion heritage, they were able to grow. And soon, they grew so big they were a media and also a financial presence, then they had to be reckoned with. And soon, through lies and deception, they changed the rules, and Jesus and his followers were the bad guys. No more freedom of religion, as you know today they preach freedom from religion. As long as you believe like them, and talk about world peace, not telling how they mean when all Christians are gone. And peace sounds like a good thing... doesn't it? But true peace is always found in Jesus. That is why crime, rape, divorce, and drug use is out of control. God isn't allowed in schools, and now we have to hide in our homes, and meet secretly."

"Gee Grandpa, I wish I lived back then, those old churches look so neat, and I love to hear the old songs you guys sang."

"Me, too. But cling to Jesus, and don't let them find you reading your Bible. He's coming soon for us, to take us out of this world. Not soon enough for me...."

Who would ever have though Pontiac would not exist? Or that God would not be allowed in school? Or that the name of Jesus would be illegal? Can't happen here? It already is. And when we see broken homes, broken lives,and broken churches, society wonders why. Keep the main thing the main thing-Jesus. No other God before Him! Or you may be explaining to your grandson why you are an outlaw for Jesus? He was a good guy wasn't he? Don't be able to say "I remember the good ole days in church. Teaching, praying, singing, and fellowshipping. Sharing Jesus and seeing lives changed-boy I wish I could go back..."

So does Pontiac-and their devoted followers, makes you wonder huh? Jesus Christ-the son of God! Knowing Him told a lot about the people and the freedom we had in Him. Before He became an orphan in US religion. We need Him now-more than ever. Only in Him the good, ole days are here now! And there are no orphans in heaven. Seek Him while He may be found.

It is happening worldwide-and we may be next. Never say never. Support your local Jesus today.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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name above all names

Ever since God created, we have all had something in common-a name to identify us, and keep us separate from each other. Whether it be animals, God had them parade by Adam so he could give them each a name, or people-Adam, Eve, Seth, Cain, or Abel, we all have a name given to us to be identified by. And some are more memorable than others.

John, Paul, George, and Ringo-no last names needed here. Same with Cher, Dr. Phil, or Oprah. And some even carry nicknames, giving us an insight into their background or personality. Dale Earnhardt was "the Intimidator." Arnold is the "Governator." The Duke of Flatbush is none other that Edwin Snider, of the Brooklyn Dodgers, #4. You may know Ralph Barger better as Sonny. Reagan was the Gipper. Vito Andolini? You may know him better as Don Corleone, the Godfather. Harvey Mushman? Steve McQueen's racing alias. And the list goes on.

Even in school, we all had nicknames, John C. was Nippy, Scrocca was Tony Rome, Frank B was Boosh, Bace was Eagle, Accorsi was Pinky, and looked like Elvis, Nicky was Clemenza, and I was Crazy. Only Miller brought a number into his nickname, JS3! Mention any name at Union College and they knew just who we were.

In the biker world, my friend Ray is known as Chief, due to his ancestry. I know 400 lb. men known as Tiny. Dutch is known by his background. Bikerjim, well he is. Panhead Dick, what he rides, or or what would like to be riding, again. In show biz, some where known by the group they hung with-The Rat Pack, or as one of their members, Old Blue Eyes was also known as the Chairman of the Board. In off road racing, just mention the Ironman, and you know they are talking about Ivan Stewart, although I never heard him called that. And when men have many titles, like Bishop, Father, Pastor, Brother Al, Brother works just fine.

So many names, and even the unidentified dead are given them, Jane or John Doe, or the saddest, Baby Doe. Names on lists somewhere, but never listed in phone books, or Face book lists.

How about Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John? Do you know them by their inclusion in the best selling book, the Bible? How about a man, known as Wonderful, Counselor, Prince of Peace, Son of Man, and the lamb that was slain? You may even use His name in vain, not knowing of His royalty, and His holy lineage. Or you may know Him as Jesus Christ, Jesus the Messiah. Master and savior. And He knows you, but the important thing is to know Him personally, and the only way to do that is to be born again, to repent and give Him your life. And then He will call you a special name-friend. We know all these others by reputation, but how many do we know? And how many would call us friend? Knowing about Him, is not the same as knowing Him!

Years ago we vacationed in Durango, and went to Francisco's. I knew the family, and waiting in line, we were about 15th in line, Skip saw me. "Hey Mike is that you?" he called. "How many?" And he showed all eight of us to a table immediately, impressing my boss who was with us. He knew me by name, a friend, and there is nothing like being recognized by someone in authority, and going to the head of line!

Today the Holy Spirit is calling you. By name, and is calling deep within your soul. Telling you that you need a savior, and you need to be reunited with God. And that Jesus is the only way! You may hear that voice, or even sense it-but it never yells or forces its way in. He is a gentlemen, but loves you so much He died for you. And when He says Joe, He knows which one. Mary-knows you from Maria and the other Mary's. Knows your face, your name, where you live, and all about you. And He still loves you! Call on Him today, while you still can. He is waiting, pen in hand, to write your name in the Book of Life. Where it will stay forever, and on Judgment Day, will represent you-INNOCENT as charged! He took your sin! What other person can do that? Now that's a friend!

You see there are names, and there are NAMES! In a who you know world, why not know the one who can offer eternal life? Jesus the Christ. Son of God. Master. Savior. Friend.

And best of all, He knows my name! I hope He knows yours, too!

Do you know His?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

life is what interferes with your plans

The world is one big dichotomy-a huge contradiction of sorts. You start off wanting to be rich so you can have nice things, but spend all day at work and never have a chance to enjoy them. But everyone else does. You were the prettiest girl in the class, but were unapproachable-boys were afraid to ask you out-you were too beautiful. It seems you either have the time or the money, but never both at the same time, and that trip you have been postponing for years, is set to finally become reality, and you are faced with a layoff. Do I go or not? What will my boss think, and will I get laid off? So you don't go, and aren't but missed the chance of a life time. While the boss returns from his trip with some great stories and pictures.

Ever notice how the best deals come along when you never have any cash, but the times you do the deals aren't there, or you just aren't interested? Why does it rain, the only time in six months when you go to Disneyland for vacation? Why does gas go down when I buy a car that gets 40mpg, but up when I buy on that gets 10? Did you ever buy a stereo with a low price guarantee, and see it lower the next week? And thrown away the receipt for a refund, when usually you have a drawer full of them? Did you ever make a reservation, then get up early to go somewhere, because the message said next weekend, but it meant NEXT weekend, not this one? No wonder you could get a room. And the list goes on and on.

Some people believe in bad luck. And if it wasn't for bad would have no luck at all. Some have an uncanny ability to make the wrong decision-felony stupidity. And some-well some of us just roll with the punches, and hope that next time is better. Next time meaning this time, not NEXT time.

Hidden in there somewhere is a blessing, disguised as life, which happens to all our plans, just not all the time. And you can only see them when looking back. Labor Day 1974. I had met Ginger at my cousin's wedding, but was with my girlfriend. Do we see a potential problem? Visiting with her later, she lived in Ohio and invited me out. So at the last minute, the Friday night of the Labor Day weekend, I decided to go, on my motorcycle. But had to change my oil first. Finally finding a parts store open, I bought the oil, drained the bike, and proceeded to lubricate the floor under it when I forgot to replace the drain plug first. So repeat procedure to parts store, but after installing drain plug, and finally leave-in the rain, at about 10pm. Riding straight through in mostly cold and rain, I got stopped three times for speeding-no tickets, the one cop felt sorry for me when I pulled off my glove and my hand was black from the cold and the glove's dye running. I got there just in time for them to leave for the lake, so slept in a small back seat. Had fun on the lake, but Ginger was suspiciously cool to me. Finally her mother confronted her with "did you tell him?" and she hadn't. Then the bombshell-she was pregnant, by her boyfriend and they were getting married. My heart broken-more like disappointed, I only had another 800 mile ride in cold, but dry to contemplate this. But looking back, God did me a favor, that I didn't realize-with only my emotions getting in the way, do yours ever get in the way? But I did get to take a 1700 mile trip-in three days!

The next summer I would get saved, and could begin to see God's plan work out for me. You see He allows tough times, or tough situations so you can run to Him. He allows things to not seemingly work out, because He has better. I have found when he says He knows the plans He has for you, they are good. Not always easy, but always with my best interest in mind. You see, I took another trip three years later, and met Theresa, my wife of 32 years. Coulda, shoulda, and woulda turned into is and was and is going to be. Following every no is a better yes, each job loss a better job,and every setback, a bigger victory. Just hang tight with God. He knows the end-you just have to make it through the middle. But you are not alone. He is always with you.

Living well can be the best revenge-and God wants to get revenge for you. Let Him. For the plans He has for you far outweigh the goals you set. He gives the bike, and the time to ride it. He gives the job, and also time to be with your family. He provides the home, and the means to pay for it. And the best thing, He provided Jesus to atone for all your sin, so you can fellowship with Him, and have eternal life. It is safe to say His grace is sufficient.

Life is an endurance race, not a sprint. And you are signed up for the long haul. Stay the course, and if the road you are on is rough, you are on the right one. So long as you ride it with Jesus. The time to start riding with Him and trusting Him is now!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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scratch and sniff

I used to love waking up at my Grandma's house. No matter what time zone my body was on, and no matter what time it really was, the smell of Kermie's sausage or bacon would help me to get out of bed. And just thinking of that smell again makes me hungry. Excuse me, I'll be right back.

OK, I'm back. And full. The thought of bacon got to me. I love riding around on Saturday mornings, after the neighbors have just cut their lawns. The smell of fresh cut grass, just makes me feel alive, particularly if I drive by a golf course, that's not by the freeway. And one of the things you miss while traveling in a car is the various smells as you travel through the country. You miss the breakfast smells of diners, the fresh, cut grass of yards, and the smell from bakeries and In and Out. How horse stables can smell so good. Each smell much different, and distinct, and each one has its own promise of satisfaction attached.

But I also love the smell of racing castor, and how it fills my nostrils until it burns. The smell of sitting in a new car, and how it just feels so clean, and how leather just stirs the senses. Remember when gas smelled good? It still does outside of California, but still not as good as when lead was in it. But somehow, if the ratio isn't just right, the smell becomes an odor-to be abandoned as quickly as possible, instead of enjoyed for as long as it lasts.

Burn bacon, and the fans come on. Same with coffee. Grass an hour after it is cut doesn't have the same fresh smell it had when first cut. The smell of In and Out from the drive through by the time you get home has turned into more oil than meat and fried potatoes. Cow pies stink while horse puckey smells so good.
And as good as castor smells at the track, one of the worst smells is a car burning oil.

But a smell that somehow still is attractive after many years is from the interiors of old American cars. Somehow the Morrokide from GM cars from the sixties still retains a pleasing aroma. I love the smell from cars from the forties, one that combines a musty smell with real fabric, devoid of synthetics-cottons and wools that nowadays would be to expensive too produce in volume. And real leather seats, not the ground up and sprayed on leather surfaces we are faced with today. Smells today that are encouraged to not offend, instead of stirring the senses.

But maybe it is the memories that the smells rekindle, and the good times I had when I first enjoyed them. Somehow new and improved, or as good as, or in place of, or smells like just isn't the same. I want the real thing, and my choice of whom I worship is the same. Why settle for a synthetic smell, when the real one is available? And why settle for a false God, or bad doctrine, or false teachings, when the truth is available, and sets you free? The fact is you don't have to, so don't. Demand the truth, God has set it up that way. But somehow our adversary, the devil, sneaks in and uses a counterfeit. It sorta feels the same, it makes you happy, and hey, I'm in a hurry and don't have the time. But just like waiting for the brownies to be done, to get the perfect smell, waiting on God produces the best results. Too soon, the blessings just aren't done yet. Too long, and you've missed them. Using your own judgment just confuses the issue, it takes spending time with God to get the smells just right, and as good as Oreo's are, they just can't compare with the smell of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies, or Snickerdoodles, or the smell of an apple pie just from the oven. Some things are best when fresh, and while some things just feed the senses, God's freshness feeds the soul. It encourages the spirit, and when walking with Jesus everything seems fresh and new. And every morning His mercies are!

Start your day with Jesus. Somehow the coffee seems better, the bacon crisper, and the toast just right. Ride past the fresh grass, and watch as the sun melts the dew from it. Ride past the In and Out and know lunch is only a few hours away. And if on your bike, as you should be, experience all the fresh smells that make being alive so exciting. You see, that new car odor will fail in a few months, but Jesus will be the same every morning. Fresh to wake up too.

For me, bacon crisp, toast sourdough, then a ride past the golf course, and a stop at a race shop to smell the castor. Sensory overload for me, each one a delicious reminder of good times. But-the sweet smell of Jesus in my life- a reminder of good things past, and great things to come.

We all have an idea of what haven will be like? Does your include smells? If not, maybe include them in your next preview, and watch as it heightens all your senses, and brings you closer to God. A hunger that is always filled-and in between snacks are always OK.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogpsot.com

say, aren't you the girl in the GTO?

Linda was only 15, and had just gotten her driving permit when her dad bought the GTO. It was 1966, and this special order car was refused by the son of the owner of the dealership-he wanted a Cadillac, so the gift went up for sale, and Linda's dad bought it. She would learn to drive in it, and for the next 44 years it would be hers. Throughout high school, and even her career, even when she moved from Evansville to New York City, the GTO was part of her life. In her words, "it went everywhere from the drive-in to the prom, dates and even tee peeing." It was part of her life, and when asked for a date, would qualify the prospective datee, by asking if he was more interested in the car than her. Unashamed, many would answer the car, never a way to impress her, or get a date, but the smarter ones would answer Linda, and hope she would drive it-and that she might even let them! The car was so much a part of her, that at her tenth high school reunion, many asked if she still had the GTO. And she still does today! You didn't Linda with the car-you got the car with Linda. And you still do today.

The car is a 1966 Pontiac GTO convertible-blue, with black vinyl interior, 4 on the floor, three deuces, and still wears Uniroyal Red Line tires. Carefully restified, not restored, but repaired as needed, it shows 143,000 miles, and has been repainted. It still needs some detailing, after all something's just wear normally, just like your daily driver does, but the car is as original as it can be. All the way down to the interior and the convertible boot. And reflects many good times, in her life. A 44 year old friend, that has known her its entire life.

We also talked with a friend whose husband has stopped going to church. He had retired early, and told God he would go to church, if God provided money so he wouldn't have to work. Now that's faith. And for three years was faithful until the economy and his savings were gone, and he had to go back to work. And quit going to church, and is bitter at God. He claims God let him down. He had made a deal with Him, and God didn't uphold His end of it. Sadly this man is misled, as God makes no deals like this, and never does. His offer is a gift, you cannot negotiate a gift for it is free. But like others, when they don't get their way, blame God and walk away.

I wonder where Linda's GTO would be if she traded it when it needed brakes? Or a battery? How about replacing those expensive Redline tires after doing burnouts? Or the clutch? Factory warranties don't even cover wear items, so do we think God should cover our lifestyle, just because we attend church-based on what He can do for us? Stop and think about how ridiculous that sounds! Too bad he just wouldn't accept the free gift of salvation, and enjoy his life. The choice was his, and he chose to blame God. Don't you make the same mistake.

We had driven up in the Mustang, top down, because Theresa had hurt her back. And as always, God blessed us. Even in a car. Cruising the tree lined streets of Fullerton, then heading to the Hat for a hot pastrami sandwich, we had the top down, the Beach Boys playing through the speakers, and were happily enjoying the new suntan we were getting. And I was enjoying it with my 32 year partner! Who I won't trade!

And Brian Wilson's words were so right on. We were having fun, fun, fun! We were cruisin' with the radio blastin'-but it wasn't my daddy's car-it was my wife's! The warmth of the sun, at our backs, and the warmth of the Son in our hearts. You see you don't get the Father without the Son, Jesus. Or the Mustang without Theresa.

And sometimes, like that Saturday, it's OK to take the car. Just not a habit I intend to start. The motorcycles might get lonely and start to talk. But whatever you take, even when you do take the car, do it with the one you love, and who loves you back-as you are. And having your wife next to you just makes it that much more special.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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if you want home cooking stay home

When traveling how do you know how to pick a good restaurant? The old adage about truck drivers eating there I found to be an urban legend-the most important criteria to them is can they park their truck. And in a land that is saturated with chains of all sorts-what do you do? Over the years I have put together a criteria for eating on the road, and this is how it qualifies a great Mexican restaurant. Note rules are not hard and fast-but they work for me.

I have learned, stay away from modern, brightly colored buildings. Old houses are best. When these places try to capture the flavor of Mexico in their over decorated establishment, they end up hiring cooks for minimum wage. The allure of free chips and salsa can be inviting, but rubbery tacos and latex chicken aren't the way to go. The name can make a difference, avoid names like El Cid, or named after an animal-Iguana's for instance. Look for a names like La Cocina-kitchen, or La Buena Vida. Best bets may be named after the cook, extra points if it is a female. Mamacitas tend to make the best Mexican food, look for names like Dolores Kitchen, Maria's, and Francisco's-yes I know it is a male name, but his wife does the cooking.

Avoid the ones by the freeway exits. Go downtown, and avoid the trendy looking ones. The best ones seem to be found also on the edge of town, where parking is where you can, usually gravel and dirt, and the building may be an old house. Inside decor to avoid-white linen table cloths! Floors shouldn't be carpeted, as you never get the salsa out of them. Vinyl on floors and tablecloths is easier to clean. Velvet paintings can be a lure, avoid pictures of Pancho Villa or El Vis, but doesn't mean the food isn't authentic. Look for family pictures, graduation notices and communion memories, an area for local business cards, and a cashier who is part of the family. Mom cooks, dad runs the register, and the kids serve. We all enjoy.

Finally the menu. Real Mexican food is not served with wine. Sorry trendy folks-it is cold Coke or maybe a cerveza. Used to cool the palate instead of get drunk. And look for family favorites-usually under some spilled, hard salsa on the laminated menu. Handwritten menu boards offer the daily specials. I have found the more basic the food, the better. Gourmet and Mexico just shouldn't role off the same tongue-at least not together in the same restaurant. And no big screen TVs. Look for a small one, even one with an antenna, where the waitresses sit at watching in between customers. In Espanol. A Mexican soap opera or futbol. Black and white-extra points. Silverware-you got a knife and fork-who says they have to match? And napkins are paper. Never ask is the chili hot. So how do you know where to find this mythical place? You ask.

One night in Salinas, we asked the girl working the motel desk where to get some good Mexican food. After naming some local chains, I pushed for real food, where the hardcore locals go. With a warning, we were directed to a place that most would not go to. On a main street, but dark, the streetlight was out, an old looking building that screamed "paint me please", potholes so big trucks were leaning and Toyotas were wary, and most of the sign lights out for the night. Looks fine to me. Walking in, Theresa had already told the boys "stay close and don't touch anything," we were greeted by a mamacita, making tortillas, and a room filled with empty deli style coolers. Seems they sold them on the side, or in this case the entry way. Spanish was the main language, and as a waitress took us to a table, a few looked up, probably wondering how some gringos had invaded their cocina/cooler store, must touristas that are lost. Ordering from the menu basic stuff-Theresa judges by rice and beans, and me by carne asada, only if adobada isn't available, we had this great meal. FRESH tortillas, cold Cokes, and great chips and salsa. Not quite the touristy trap, definitely not Taco Bell, the tables leaned a bit, the bugs had names like Pepe or El Grande, and this place won't meet Sunset magazines criteria, but it was what we wanted. And the food and the experience were incredible. And somehow we fit right in! The only downer-I forget the name of it! I remember how to get there, and only saw the place once in the dark-no street lights-but look every time I get off the highway in Salinas. I am sure it is still there, and not replaced by some chain. No sense starting a Mexican revolution over a restaurant when the people approve.

Fitting right in is also a good thing when looking for a church. If the people are friendly, the pastor right on, and the music fun and a spirit of worship is found-you have found a home. Using similar criteria to finding a good restaurant, I have found that asking another Christian where they go is the best thing. And go with them-so you are not a stranger-you at least know someone! Motorcycle parked out front are a plus. But the most important criteria-I saved for last.
For when we look for somewhere to eat, repair our car, fix our bikes, or worship, we pray first. And God has always been faithful to send us to great places. Some think it is a sixth sense, but it should be your first sense. And will even exceed an overwhelming sense of common-which usually isn't.

Where you eat, and feed is important. And who you do it with is also. Worship local, eat local-but when on the road-take the same gospel that works at home with you, and find out that your away from home is someone else's home-and be welcomed by them. The best meal of your life may be your next one, and the best message ever one service away.

Pray, obey, and follow. Works great for food, and even better with God. And who knows better about good places to eat than Jesus Himself!

And if the waitress knows what sopapillas are, save some room for a couple. Good food, like the gospel, are always good news.

Do you want red or green with that?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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