another hero of flight 93

Sitting here it is almost 12 years to the minute that United Airlines Flight 93 became the final plane to crash on 9-11.  But the crash of this flight was to be different from the Twin Towers and Pentagon crashes, as 40 brave and heroic Americans defeated the terrorists by taking the plane over and flying it into the ground, just outside of Shanksville, Pennsylvania.  A little town not even on some maps, it was soon to become a memorial field, and a place of remembrance.  On that day a Catholic priest, Fr. Alphonse Mascherino was so touched as he volunteered to do whatever was needed, that he asked God how he could help.  God’s answer to him, was to make a place where families, friends, and others could find peace, and remember that morning.  Selling everything he had, his brother in law Larry gave him far more than his antiques were worth, and he bought an old church building, that local farmers were using to store hay.  Investing everything he had in the vision God had given him, he started to renovate the insides, his goal to e open and have a service on 9-11, 2002.  When the clerk at 84 Lumber asked why he was in all the time, buying $25 of stuff at a time, he explained his dream, and the owner, Maggie, provided all the supplies, lumber, and manpower to meet his target date-all with just two seeks to spare.  And the miracles had just begun.

In 2005 on my first Torches Across America ride, we went to the crash site, and on that foggy morning, a man stepped out of the crowd of 300 bikers, and sang the Star Spangled Banner, as we all joined in.  And as the fog lifted, the sunlight shone on the area still off limits, and 9-11 became all too real.  So the next year I planned to be there on 9-11, and had heard of the chapel.  The UAL Flight 93 Memorial Chapel, the dream of Fr. Al.  Contacting him, I volunteered to help, but he wanted me to speak, as many bikers were coming, and he wanted them to be ministered to.  And soon the vision of the Chapel had brought me into Fr. Al’s vision, and on the fifth anniversary of the crash, I was to speak.  And also to be humbled by a man who loved people, and to comfort them.  A man so well respected that from senators to farmers all knew him.  A day where it rained, the locals claim God sheds tears there that day, where over 500 of us waited in tent that held only 250, we all were overwhelmed by the presence of God.  From the North Star Kids starting off singing “I’m proud to be an American...” our tear cracked voices sang along.  We got to meet the Lt. Governor of Pennsylvania, who approached me and told me she rode a Harley, and was one of us.  To meeting the entire Leroy Homer family, Flight 93’s co-pilot, Mary White, Beth Waino’s mom, to so many who had been associated with them, we were welcomed, and blessed.  All friends of Fr. Al, who made us all feel welcomed, and the start of a friendship lasting until he died last spring.  A man who was healed miraculously of cancer-3 times, yet the fourth was to take his life.  A man who died penniless, except rich in God and friends.  A man who when God gave him a vision, let Him carry it out, also providing a cottage next door for his friends to stay at, of which we stayed many times.  A man whose faith in Jesus Christ made him a rebel in the Catholic church, as he gave communion to all believers, and who with another priest were looking to buy old churches, and allow all faiths to use them to worship.  A man who used to e-mail regularly, asking for prayer and guidance, as he undertook new projects.  A man who after being healed for the last time, opened the chapel on Sunday afternoons for any church group with a worship team, and then to have a healing service...how many of us would look for reasons to not attend, he saw Jesus as the only reason to attend. 

In the spring of 2011, when taking a drivers test, he failed, being declared legally blind due to cataracts.  Which explained his wild driving I experienced first hand.  But having one eye done, then the other, he saw such colors and beauty that he wrote he was going to find a church and attend his first sunrise Easter service.  But soon after that a fourth cancer was to set in, and take his life.  But loyal to God to the end, he spoke last year at the chapel, and would still do mass for whoever needed it.  Giving of himself, he emptied himself much like Jesus did, serving with humility and love, to a dying world.  And today I really miss my friend.  A man of God so sold out to God he once denied Focus on Family to tape there on the National Day of Prayer, there agenda was too politically correct for him, the day was to draw attention to Jesus, and no one else.  I really miss the man with holes in his boots, and dirt under his fingernails.  I miss the e-mails, and talking for hours on the phone.  But I too have left a legacy, as CMA through Dave and Linda continue to serve at the chapel, and Dave was able to assist Fr. Al in his last days.  One man touching so many lives...a true hero of Flight 93.

So as I look out on this cool California day, last week was 100, today in the 60’s and foggy, I remember that first day at the chapel, where I knew something special was to happen.  I remember at 10:03, the time the plane went intothe ground, the bell ringing ceremony, 40 people there to ring the bell, one each for each hero.  I remember the newscaster filming the Homer family with us, and when Ilsa Homer, Leroy’s mom joined the group, she of Swedish descent, the black camera man blurted out  “You’re white!”  To which she answered, “ my husband was black.”  And we all laughed together.  To being held and consoling the other stewardesses of United Airlines who knew the crew and captain, with their tears touching my cheeks.  And to Fr. Al leading us all in God Bless America!  And so that is my prayer for today, and everyday.  God bless America, we need it.  But let me add, America Bless God.  And as we remember the victims of 9-11, including the ones in Libya, let us turn to Jesus and seek His peace and guidance.  Just like my friend and fellow patriot Fr. Al did.  Who today and forever is in heaven, finally meeting his fellow heroes and co-workers.  It is written the harvest is plentiful,but the workers few.  I am blessed to be among the few, and a friend of Fr. Al.  Who would be embarrassed, and write me telling me so...I’ll just have to wait to deal with that one.  One more time to see my friend, and in heaven with Jesus.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

from a plaque left at the chapel-

THE BRAVE AMERICANS WHO BOARDED FLIGHT 93 DID NOT KNOW THEY WOULD BE CALLED UPON TO BECOME WARRIORS FOR GOOD, IN THE EVER PRESENT BATTLE BETWEEN GOOD AND EVIL. EVEN SO, THEY EXERCISED THEIR GOD GIVEN RIGHT TO FREEDOM BY TAKING A VOTE, AND THEN TOOK OSAMA'S KILLERS TO THE GROUND. SINCE I DO NOT KNOW OF ANY WHO EARNED THE EAGLE, GLOBE, AND ANCHOR, I AM LEAVING THEM ONE OF MINE. SEMPER FI.
KEN GUERCIO
5-30-05

 

 

 

Bill is a very good attorney

Bill is an attorney.  All attorneys lie.  And Bill is a very good attorney.  Thus was the legacy of my friend Bill, who we met through off road racing.  He was known as a good racer, and a fierce competitor, only he was know to stretch the truth.  And make it sound so believable that no matter how unbelievable it was, you wanted to believe it.  But like I said, he was known to stretch the truth.  After one race where he had narrowly missed being hit by another car, he was telling us how he missed being hit and taken out of the race by 6 inches.  All the while his co-driver was standing behind him, where Bill didn’t see him, with his arms out stretched, more like 6 feet!  But the legend grew, if only in Bill’s mind, and we still loved him, despite his specious claims, a word he taught me, specious meaning useless.  But one bit of advice he gave me has stuck with me, and I’ll pass it on to you.  Although you may have a big story to tell, the judge, or your audience only cares about a small part of it.  Which he demonstrated by his arms outstretched, 6 feet, and then put his hands together in a small square.  You may have a 6 foot story, but they only care about 4 inches of it.   Advice I was to use when I went to court...

I had been a salesman most of my life, and I wanted out.  I was tired of the lies, and misrepresentations that the trade was known for, I tried to tell the truth, and was known for coming in with it, after someone else’s lie sounded better.  Amazing how a lie can sound more real than the truth, but it does happen.  So I finally decided one day, I was through, and I would quit.  But when checking into my 401k, found out if I quit I would lose the company’s participation, taking about half of what was in there.  But if I was fired, I got it all, so I just quit going to work, didn’t answer or return any calls, and finally they sent me a letter telling me I was no longer employed.  So I called my friend in HR, who sent me all the paperwork to get my money, but later got a phone call.  My boss, Les, told them I had quit, and so there was a problem, they wouldn’t give me all my money.  So I called Bill, who recommended small claims court, tells you how big my life savings was, and I went to court.  Using his coaching, I copied the page, highlighting the line that stated if fired or released, 100% would go to the ex-employee.  Confident I went to court...

But so did Les, and although I never trusted him, was reminded why he could have been an attorney, a very good one.  After I presented my case, which took only a few seconds, I handed the pro tem, not even a real judge, my copy, he asked a few questions, and then it was Les’s turn.  He told how I was a bad employee, never returned phone calls, and had quit without telling him, how dare I do that?  As the pro tem listened, he then tried to hand him a bound 6 inch thick book of papers.  “What am I supposed to do with this?” he asked.  Les’s answer, “ I copied the entire employee handbook for you.”  Pro tem, “but what does this have to do with the case?”  Les then mumbled something, while the pro tem handed him back the 10 pound book.  And then Les blurted out, “we had to get  him off the books somehow, so we let him go!”  The pro tem smiled at me, and told me he would consider the case, a judgment to come in the mail soon.  And I waited...and waited...I had seen Les go down in flames, I had won, he had lost...and I was on to a new career.  And then the judgment..

Although it was evident I had been fired, or let go just to get me off the books, the pro tem thought I should only be awarded 2/3 of my money.  I had won, but I had lost, how did that happen?  Are you innocent,or guilty?  Or is not guilty also mean not innocent?  Maybe if I had had a real judge and not a wannabe lawyer, with a borrowed gavel, I would have won it all.  But I had won, and it was more than Les had wanted to give...a victory.  I had used Bill’s advice, and told the small part, the only part the pro tem was interested in, and had won.  But along with experience I had learned about judgments, and how when right, you can still be wrong.  Just walking in court can make you feel guilty, and placing your whole case before one person, or a jury can be risky.  I had risked, and won.  But someday we will all stand before a final judge, and all of our contacts, skills, advice, and knowledge will not mean a thing.  We will be judged on whether we are forgiven or not, on who we say Jesus is, and how we trusted Him.  And all our sin will, like His decision, be righteous.  We will get it.  Those who deny Him will know His love and judgments are right.  And they will get what they wanted, no God in their lives...forever.  But for those who are saved, who trusted their lives in Jesus, we will also see true justice.  We will get what not what we deserve, but mercy, and grace.  We will enter into the Kingdom of heaven, to be with Jesus forever.  Now that is the kind of judge I will be glad to stand in front of, confident I know Jesus now, and forever.  He will be your counsel, wonderful counsel, and will present you as without sin, no matter what you are accused of.  Better than a pardon, there will be no record because Jesus has taken your sin, and it is forever gone.  The only way to stand before the final judgment, with Jesus as your representative.

I had only won 2/3rds, which meant they won 1/3.  Still a victory, but in Jesus I will be 100%, or 3/3rds a victor.  The trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit will all be on my side, and I will be on theirs.  Now that is a true victory.  Bill was and still is a very good attorney.  But in the court of life, you need Jesus, the only one who can truly represent you.  Whether you miss by 6 inches or 6 feet, you don’t want to miss heaven, a miss is still a miss.  And stick with the basics, trust Jesus.  If you don’t get the small things, you will never get the big ones.  Only Jesus cares about all of you.  Let the truth set you free.  And from a judge who is not a pro tem, but the real thing.  Every story sounds true until you have heard the other side’s story.  Let Jesus be the other side of your story, or better yet both sides. 

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

AM/FM-are you Sirius?

I’m about to be sick, just one more commercial showing young people worshipping some tiny, 4 door sedan is about to make me go green, as in puke.  Whatever happened to kids who liked cars, and didn’t view them as appliances, or places to listen to prerecorded music stereos with more power than their car?  If I see one more commercial with them dancing synchronized like a Dr. Pepper commercial, agreeing with the attributes of processed cheese, and “yes, I can hear you now,” I may just give up hope on this next generation.  About as far as you can get from when I grew up, where men were men, girls were girls, and we all liked cool cars, and fast was cool.  Even our music set the tone, and songs about Little Deuce Coupes, 409’s, her Daddy’s T-Bird, XKE’s and Vettes on Dead Man’s Curve, and even ‘34 wagons they thought to be woodies got us in the mood to go for a ride.  Never heard of a song about Toyota did you?  Did you know they even had a car called the Toyolet, sounds like toilet.  Who ever sang about my mpg, but we did sing about 413’s kickin’ in.  Even the nerdiest nerd knew what a 4 speed, dual quad, posi-traction 409 was, she was real fine, what rhymes with Corolla?  Or Camry?  What girl could resist a ride on a moonlit night with the top down in his Mustang, with the tunes pouring out of the AM radio, hoping the cool DJ would play their song, how could Sirius with prerecorded you choose to listen to your only favorite songs with the top up so she wouldn’t mess her hair, seat belted safely on the other side of the car, no wonder kids have no sense of romance today.  Remember bench seats, and her finally getting close to you, and your arm going to sleep and in agony  for hours...who didn’t live for those moments?  Cruising the drive-in on Friday nights alone, and then again on Saturday night, but this time with your girl...and all the time the songs were about love, cars, love surf, love, and love.  No drugs, unwed mothers, schools with cops, or divorced parents, we were in love, and the music told all about.  Even two girls for every boy talked about your chances for a date, and not,well you know.  So why not uncap the headers, set the distributor, fill up on Sunoco 260, and meet at the end of town for some drag races, for pinks.

But along came FM, and soon we were able to listen to an entire album side, instead of just one song, heard 20 times a day.  And the sound quality got better, even better than the reverb kit in your mother’s Pontiac, and soon it wasn’t about cruising with your windows down, but with them up, to better hear the music.  Suddenly war protest songs, songs about drugs, Society’s Child, and Love Children became popular, but the cars stayed hot and fast.  Motown was putting out the hits, both in cars and music, and as car songs went to the older guys, still cruisin’ the drive in on Friday night, looking for a date, others had gone to Nam, and Country Joe asked “1-2-3 what are we fightin’ for?”  Where had all the car songs gone, where had the 2 minute 30 second bursts of joy gone?  Who would have ever thought it would lead to miles per gallon, Wi-fi, and watts per channel, rather than cubic inches.  And no songs.  We had lost our way, and it was to get worse, for in 1974 OPEC controlled America, and its gas prices, and soon some even rode motorcycles because they got great fuel economy.  Cars were to follow, and soon 0-60 became 0-50, and the times were slower yet.  No songs about Mustang Sally II, And when Daddy  said “son you’re gonna drive me to drinkin’,” it was in a Mark III, not a Hot Rod.  Never heard a song about Nissan/Datsun, Honda cars, although Honda bikes were groovy little motor bikes.  And forever the next generation was doomed to disco, Brittany Spears, synchronized dancing, and not one song about cars, because cars along with the music just weren’t cool any more.  At least Justin Bieber got a ticket for speeding.  Green was in, and you wonder why I’m about to go green?  It ain’t with envy.

It seems every time God sets up something good, someone has to try and improve on it, or at least change the truth to suit themselves.  If you can remember all lies are based on truth, then you can get why today we have people who see demons everywhere, and wish to cast them out of everyone, instead of facing up to their own actions and being held responsible.  They might have read the Bible, but missed Acts 19, the 7 sons of Skeva.  Or those who name and claim everything, serving God who serves them, a genie in the lamp, demanding Him to give them what they want...or else.  And when He doesn’t, believe God doesn’t work, when really it is their sin and religion that have led them astray.  Accountability, not me, they claim as they enforce their rules on you, the young and unsuspecting.  And soon, like car songs that made us happy to be young, they have become old and bitter, and soon songs of divorce, drugs, unwed mothers, and suicide become popular.  The songs reflect what is in our hearts, and too many Christians just don’t have fun, as if it were a sin.  So I ask, what good is fun if you don’t enjoy it?  And Christians should have more fun than anyone else, we know Jesus, we are going to heaven, and the best day here is still the worst day in heaven.   And yet we see them approach God like they do their cars, non-descript sedans, dull colors, all looking the same in the name of individuality, with i-pods stuck in their ears, and their  date the same way.  Where is the romance we once enjoyed, and why has the church allowed it to be taken away?

For many who ask “can you hear me now?” Jesus answers yes, and asks the same thing.  Can we hear Him now, do we want to?  Have we become so isolated as a society, that we think God is the same way?  Maybe we need to bring back that Old Time Religion, for as the song states, “it was good enough for me.”  Get back to Jesus, instead of boring church services.  How about the Holy spirit instead of programs, and spend some time with God.  Some day today will be referred to as the good old days, what will your memories be?  Would you rather go to a cruise night and remember Betty and Veronica, or hang out in a parking lot showing off your Civic, and the trunk full of speakers?  What is under your hood, in your heart, tells more about where you live and how than we want to know sometimes.  Maybe a trip back where an old AM transistor sister crackles, while singing about love.  Better than your car shaking from the synthetic bass in the Mazda next to you.  Remember when radio was free, and not a subscription?  Remember when Jesus was exciting, and not a subscription?  Maybe it is time to go back to the basics, and get reunited, a cruise night with Jesus.  Remembering the old songs, seeing the old friends, and cruising church for a date, rather than a place to park.  Make it a date tonight, maybe sit out in the car, top down, AM on, and listen to songs about little GTO”s, Cobras, and sit back, even if your car is a sedan, and think about it being a woodie...They may wonder at first what you are up to, and maybe be curious enough to seek and find, just like the Wonder Bar on your old radio.  Try Jesus today, welcome back, we’ve missed you.  Times and cars may change, even radios, but His love never has, or will.  AM/FM-are you Sirius?  Religion or Jesus-how serious are you?

Turn up the reverb, life can be all Crimson and Clover once again.  And no, I’d rather not be a Pepper, too.  Looking for a place where the kids are hip?  Look no further than Jesus...even the Little Old Lady from Pasadena found what she was looking for...have you?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

stages in life

In your life you will go through many different stages.  Some are pronounced, and lifestyle changing, as learning to crawl, then walk-just ask your mother who couldn’t wait until you did, and then was exhausted from chasing you wishing you weren’t.  Riding your first two wheeler sans training wheels is another stage, and then it your first ten speed, then your first mini-bike, then your first motorcycle, then as you get older you digress, and finally you come to the age where you just wish you could walk again, and have your mother chasing after you.  But in between come some events, some memorable because they were unforgettable, some you wish you could forget because they too were unforgettable.  Now I have never been known for being light on my feet, but heavy on others, and during the ninth grade awards assembly I got to show off my skills, or lack thereof.  I was co-captain of both basketball and football teams that year, and we got called up first to get the awards, then the team followed.  It was the event of the school year, where you are recognized by the whole school, and I was ready-at least my ego was.  Calling my name I rushed up the aisle, and then hitting the steps-literally as when I hit them, I tripped, sliding onto the stage, and the whole school broke out in applause and laughter.  One step had taken me from cool co-captain to village idiot.  Pride had gotten the best of me, and although long ago I lost the award, I still have the memory.  And the two left feet.  Trust me when I say when I got called up again I walked slowly, and deliberately, with the whole assembly being disappointed with no encore act to follow.  A stage in life that was maybe not life changing, but memorable.  Remember Mohn from freshman basketball, set records for rebounds, yeah the one who tripped during the assembly...yeah, that one.  And I still walk stairs very carefully today, somehow that ninth grade assembly haunts me.

Another stage in life was to be more memorable, and less embarrassing was when BH and I attended an outdoor concert, with Alice Cooper being the headliner.  In an old stadium, we had met some girls, who must have been desparate for attention, and who also had backstage passes, which got us onto the stage during the show.  Welcome to my Nightmare was the theme, based on his hit at the time, shades of my last stage performance lurking in the shadows.  But here we were on stage, stage right, with these two girls on our shoulders, dancing, some 20 feet from Alice, who looked over at me once, exhausted, and I gave him a smile, and he smiled back, acknowledging me.  Here I am a rock star-or at least on stage with one.  But as the show ended, too soon as all good times do, we had been talking to a young boy, about 10, who was named Billy.  When the weight of the girls got to be too much, we visited with him, they had introduced him to us.  His dad was the drummer in the band, and when he looked over at Billy, Billy would smile back, a great expression of love between a father and a son.  But as the concert ended, and we were forced to leave the stage, the girls too were gone, and BH and I were faced with the long walk on hot Jersey evening back to my van, parked over a mile away.  Walking with crowd, shuffling along is more accurate, every once in a while a vehicle would try to pass through, and the crowd would split, allowing them through.  When one long, black limo can next, we moved, and the window rolled down, with Billy inside.  “Hey guys, want a ride?”  Do Harleys vibrate?  Do Triumphs leak oil?  You have to ask?  And the limo stopped, the door opened, and we climbed in the back, with the band, and some family members.  I can’t remember the conversation, but Billy’s dad thanked us for being nice to his son, and I remember Alice passed out leaning against the door, we took the ride, we’ll pass on the nightmare.  And we got dropped off at our van, in front of a crowd of Alice Copper worshippers, and I never fell!  Of course if there had been some steps, but no, we won’t go there.  And in all the excitement we never got the girls’ number!

So between learning to crawl, falling up steps, and riding with rock stars, you too will experience some memorable events.  Some you may want to forget, but one I never will is the night running on the beach in Santa Monica, where John shared Jesus with me.  I was no bad dude, although I had friends who were, and when he kept talking about Jesus, I finally told him, “shut up or I’ll put you in the hospital.”  I must have been convincing because he did, but the seed had been sown, and the hook set.  And just as I had fallen up stage, danced on stage, and walked off stage, a new stage in my life, one as a Christian was about to begin.  And I was about to be on stage, for all to see, a witness of Jesus Christ, and the whole world would be watching.  And although they may be watching me, waiting for me to trip and fall, again and again, my new life was all about Jesus.  And to live my life as a witness of Him, and how He changed my life.  Not to go out witnessing, but to be a witness, 24/7, even when no one was looking, or so I thought.  In Christ I have learned to be prepared in season and out, and even when I ‘m not, how He will give me the words I need.  Not my own, but His, so I can concentrate more on my walk rather than tripping and falling.  Where one afternoon at Hollister I was talking with two Boozefighters, Bill and JQ, both national officers.  JQ was glad to see a Christian, as he had a question for me.  “Can God make a rock so big He cannot lift it?”  With all my theological juices flowing, I was gonna dazzle him, but the words that came out weren’t mine, and they were the right answer.  “You don’t ask God stupid questions like that.”  And when JQ answered he liked that, and would share it with others, I had seen the Holy spirit guiding my footsteps, and my words.  Keeping me from falling, on the stage He had prepared for me that day.

You’re gonna trip and fall, that’s life.  But Jesus is there to pick you up.  He is the humility of falling before man, He is being on stage, and being the center of attention, and He is there when you can’t find the words.  He is there!  As you walk out the door this morning, your stage awaits you.  Take Jesus with you.  Not all crowds are friendly, not all reviewers kind.  I have seen Welcome to My Nightmare first hand, and given the choice, I rather see God’s mercies.  I have been on stage, off stage, fell on the stage, and been kicked off stage.  Looking back, it may be hard to look ahead.  I’m glad Jesus has set the stage for my life, and one day that stage will be heaven.  Until then, be the witness He has called you to be.  The next person you meet may need to hear about Jesus, or be shown His love.  He may need something as simple as a ride, or a hand up.  Either way, Jesus will be there.  A stage in my life I never want to forget...the show will go on!  As for Alice, I hear he play a lot of golf, the nightmares continue.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

michelle's first ride

It is true that you never forget your first ride, and in Michelle Little’s case, dozens of us won’t either.  For her first ride was with us on Torches Across America in 2005, a ride to honor and remember those who died on 9-11, and her ride was a special one, as she was riding to remember her brother David Weiss, who was among those killed when the towers collapsed.  As a member of Rescue 1, he was doing his job that morning when the towers went down, and Michelle lost her brother forever.  So her first ride was to be an emotional ride, a long ride, and as a passenger behind Don Snyder, who she only met the night before we left Oceanside, on our way To New York City, she and Don would have an interesting ride.  Being a passenger is one thing, but so is taking a passenger, particularly one who had never ridden before.  She learned when and where Don went, so did she.  Pottie breaks are prearranged, and sitting for over 3000 miles takes patience, endurance, commitment, along with compatibility, forgiveness, and dealing with a lack of sleep.  But both made it, no major skirmishes, and every day you could see Her becoming more of a biker.  Her outfit changed with her attitude, and she learned helmet head is a badge of honor among those who ride, and speaking each night at the ceremonies along the ride, you could see her becoming one of us, aided along by the other girls on the trip.  In Ohio I watched as she and another lady cried together, for both had lost brothers there that day.  I watched as she showed some others her brother’s name on the Wall of Remembrance we carried with us.  And I even got to visit with her, answering her questions about riding, being a biker chick, and sharing Jesus more than once in comforting her in an emotion filled ride.  By the time we got to Cerrini’s Harley Davidson in Rostraver, Pennsylvania, she had ridden almost 3000 miles, grew to tolerate Don, and he  her, Don being in his 70’s at the time, and the owner’s family gave her some Harley boots, and designated her a real biker.  She had earned the title, and like I said, many of us will never remember Michelle’s first ride.  Nor Torches Across America, friends and memories that will forever be embraced in our hearts.

Now when you first started to ride, did you start off like Michelle, on a 3000 mile ride?  On the back with a stranger?  Or were you content to just close your eyes and hang on?  And when you finally felt the desire, to some of us the need, to ride yourself, did you immediately want to learn to wheelie?  To stoppie?   To ride 100 miles per hour?  Or were you like most, just happy to get into first gear without stalling, and putting the brakes on without falling.  Remember the great sense of accomplishment when you did both, and when you finally got your license and the road called, you were a rider, says so right here on my license.  But you still had a long way to go, as you cannot teach experience, as Michelle and Don learned, and so as your riding time grew, you went further, faster, and rode longer.  When Theresa got her license, it was never on the freeway, never over 55, then OK on the freeway, and finally me trying to keep up with her at 85mph.  She even lead a group of bikers to the Billy Graham Crusade one year, some 50+ bikers following a girl on her baby blue Triumph, and she had said never.  If only they had known who they were following.  I‘ll bet Michelle had at least thought never, or never again many times, but both honored the commitment to ride, and I have tremendous respect for both.  Lots of little steps, completing one mile before going the next, a pattern for life, and a way God shows us to live, and pray.

When Jesus had spent some time with His newly formed group of 12, they had little knowledge of who He was, or how He was about to change their lives forever.  And you can only imagine the conversations this group of fisherman and anarchists, and a tax collector had with Him.  But many find it strange that of all the things recorded is when they asked Him how to pray.  Not how to cast out demons, not how to prophesy, not how to cater a wedding,or feed a crowd of 5000, they didn’t ask to attend a conference on life on the road, or how to go out witnessing.  They asked how to pray, not even realizing that to build a relationship with God that it is most important.  And when Jesus responded with what is commonly known as the Lord’s prayer, although it could be called the Disciples Prayer, he didn’t tell them word for word, but showed them who and where God is, why He was sent, how to treat others, and how to love others via forgiveness.  He showed them that heaven awaits, but you can have it here and now, because Jesus is among them, and when He is gone, His spirit will remain to guide them.  Just like we would have asked, right?

So when I got a message from a lady who was working on her prayer life, I would remind her and others that prayer is a conversation, a dialogue, not a monologue.  Imagine a conversation where you spoke for 3 minutes, then it was the other person’s turn.  That is not conversation.  Imagine only asking, but never taking the time to listen to and for the answer.  Imagine you don’t know the other one on the end of the line, what questions would you ask to know about them, and what would you want them to know about you?  It is through prayer, then reading the Bible we get to know Jesus, and the more we know Him, the more we trust Him.  And soon you talk like old friends, with respect, sometimes with awe, but always glad to hear their voice.  Just like God is always glad to hear from you...and soon you have a relationship with the God of the universe, on a first name basis.  Sound easy, don’t make it harder than it is.  Take some time right now and tell Jesus how you feel, how you need help, then listen for His answer.  He knows your voice, you don’t have to tell Him each time who you are, and soon you recognize His voice also...the voice of a trusted friend.

I’m sure Michelle sent out many prayers during her ride, I know Don did, and God answered them.  We all made it, and some of us rode Torches again, and again.  Can you say that about your daily prayer life?  Or is it only in church, or when in need, or in trouble, or not getting your way?  Do you trust the one you ask to answer, and will you take His advice when given?  Take some time today and tell Jesus about something dear to you, He loves to listen.  Share about a ride, a date, a special time, and get to know Him.  And then take time to listen, and read, and get to know Him.  Precious times with precious ones are best when they are informal, when you can be yourself.  Be yourself in Christ, and never forget your first love, for that first love never forgets you.  Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.  The who, the where, and the why of Jesus.  That kingdom is coming soon, don’t miss out on the ride of your life.  Let’s pray.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

life behind bars

For me it started at a young age, in my teens.  I was looking for more thrills than my sports teams could provide, and a freedom from all the rules that go with being a teenage boy.  Don’t touch, don’t look, don’t even ask, and no was quite often the response before the question was asked.  A trait passed down to me by my parents, but taken from a different perspective.  But here I was, with only paper route money, and money from cutting yards, but with that big no staring me in the face.  My best friend Bill had let me ride his mini-bike, then Ricky his Honda 50, and I was hooked.  All the fun of two wheels without all the pedaling, I liked that.  But it was to be BH, who for a few years was to be my best friend, who pushed me over the edge, when I rode his CL77 Honda, and I was hooked, and there was no coming back.  So it was only natural that I would have my own motorcycle soon, just not while living at home.  I was working, making $2.25/hour, big bucks in 1971, with gas still a quarter, and had saved $1000, enough to retire on, or so I thought.  And I lusted, I mean I had to have a motorcycle, and the arguments began, and continued.

It went from “no son of ours is going to ride one of those things,” to when you are 18 you can move out.”  Which evaporated towards the end of my senior year, as I turned 18, and even posted a sign in my room, for all to see, “_____ days left until I buy my motorcycle.”  Causing more arguments, and teaching me how money talks, parents talk louder, and I was going to be 18, just not soon enough.  And soon there were signs they were starting to cave, that went from NO way, to you can, but can’t live here, you can live here, but the bike can’t stay in the garage, and finally-it will be different, don’t get killed on that thing!  My persistence had won out...and soon all the work, the saving, and the wishing and hoping was to come true.

Ralph’s Honda in South Orange, NJ was an unauthorized Honda dealer, not unusual at the time.  He would buy bikes, and resell them as new, just not with a warranty, but at a discount.  To a kid who only understood money, the cheaper the better, this was OK, and fortunately being a Honda, I never had a problem with it, other than the time I rode to college without mufflers, or went to fast past the high school, or....I think you get it.  It wasn’t the bike, it was the nut behind the wheel.  But on my birthday, all the arrangements were made, and BH and I left school early, as was a common occurrence my senior year.  Stopping at Dot’s lunch,riding  two up on the CL, we were excited, and with $825 cash in my pocket, the purchase price for my new 1972 CB 350 K4 Honda, I was stoked, and ready to ride.  After a quick exchange of money, and pretending to listen to the break-in advice, we were off, I was riding, on my own motorcycle, and no one could stop me now.  I had started my life behind bars, handlebars,that would last a lifetime, call it a life sentence, and all the threats, and negotiations were behind me, I was riding, was this all real or just a dream?

My life behind bars was to become a lifelong obsession, with more power, more speed, and a greater desire to go farther driving me.  Soon life behind bars was to take me to BMW motorcycles, my first one an R60/5, which my father actually thought was a good idea, the first of 5 I was to own, and the the first of many interstate travels I was to go on.  My life behind bars even influenced my dating, as if she didn’t ride, I didn’t care, with a few notable short term romances, proving my point.  So when it was time to go to Florida, BH and I left behind bars, and almost ended up behind bars in Florida, but left still riding, the only bars I chose to spend time behind.  And over the years, and various motorcycles, and after over 600,000 miles, it is safe to say almost 2/3rds of my life has been spent behind bars.  With no commutation of sentence in sight, riding to live, living to ride. 

But along the way, Jesus came into my life, and my death sentence due to sin was commuted, I was found not guilty and pardoned from my sin by Jesus, via His death on the cross.  I had found freedom in riding, now I had real freedom, even when not behind bars, the handle type.  A freedom to do as I wanted, but with the responsibility to not do what I want, based on not wishing to sin any longer.  And soon this real freedom effected all aspects of my life, riding and other.  I found in Christ what I had been looking for in all other things, and He never has let me down, although I have Him many times.  But He forgives me and still loves me, proving what He says in the scriptures about His never ending, unconditional love.  All the rules, regulations, threats, and reprisals couldn’t give me what Jesus had, and still does today.

You may not have spent time behind bars like I have, you may have spent time in front of a bar, wasting away and not knowing it.  Turn to Jesus now, and find He is the way out, and what you have always been looking for.  You may even be behind bars, doing time.  He forgives you there too, but you still have a debt to society to pay.  And He can and will use your presence in prison to show His love.  Wherever you are, He is, He  has never left you, nor will He ever forsake you.  Unlike friends and motorcycles, He will never let you stranded.  I know, I have tried, and failed-his love is that great for us, and cannot be explained in words-you need to experience Jesus to experience grace...so what are you waiting for?

I have been riding most of my life, but my life really began the day I accepted Jesus into my heart.  No religious ceremony, no bells, whistles, or applause, I quietly told Him I needed Him, please help me.  I wasn’t much, still not much either, but in Him I have everything, and He loves me...will you let Him rescue you and love you today?  All bars including handlebars are not made of steel, some exist only in the mind.  Which can be the worst, that is why He says to trust Him, and we are saved by faith.  And unlike Ralph’s Honda, He is authorized, and can do all the warranty work you need-forever.  For me it started at a young age...when will it start for you?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

my favorite view of the future

Did you know that AAA still gives out free road maps to its members?  No charge, other than membership, and you can get all you want.  For those of us who tour, it is like a riding junkie’s candy store, and my collection has grown over the years, for free.  Can’t beat a deal like that.  Yes, my friends, road maps, those wonderful things you can unfold and cover your kitchen table with, and dream of your next trip.  Like reading a book, a big book, one big page at a time, then moving on to the next page when you leave the area.  A friend, that unlike a GPS, which looks nerdly on your cool motorcycle, that fits right in your back pocket of your Wranglers, can be carried with you, and even can be refolded to size to fit in the appropriately named map pocket in your tank bag.  A friend that shows you tiny little lines that turn into wonderful curvy roads, the kind God intended when He created motorcycles.  A great overview of an area, showing alternative routes, allowing you to wander down a road, rather than wonder where it goes.  A friend you can build a relationship with, rather than a woman’s voice, not your wife’s or mother’s, telling you turn right in 750 feet, but forgot to tell you to get out of the commuter lane to do it, but will kindly, if not annoyingly reroute you back, or to the next exit, it is up to you to be ready, all this while riding, using the same care and consideration as the teenage girl texting her mother she is late for dinner.  Which also can alert you to the nearest hospital as your next destination.  Giving a whole new meaning to it’s the ride, not just the destination.

For years maps have been my winter source of entertainment, planning the next trip for next summer.  Reviewing old maps, covered with highlighted roads that we had traveled in the past, and transferring our future to new ones, and repeating the procedure again.  With some maps just containing our past routes, overlaid in a different color each year, much more fun when sharing a ride than holding a 2x2 screen and squinting at where you have been.  A map gives scale to your story, and while it may only look like a few inches on a map, it can really be hundreds, or thousands of miles in real life.  Where you can see Texas from Virginia, or Maine from Michigan, and see how you will get there.  And how you can decide which roads to take, not be locked into a freeway tour of America, loaded with apps so you don’t miss every Cracker Barrel, but do miss Lambert’s, Home of the throwed rolls in Sissiton.  Where you can take old 66, and eat at the Rock Inn, of CARS fame.  No freeway exits here.  Just real adventure.  And the best part is even though you know your destinations, you get to choose how you get there.  Some days are 500+ miles, while others take the same amount of time to cover 200, all on roads you found on your map.

Now it has been said a worn Bible is the sign of a life that isn’t, and the same can be said of maps.  If you are the type who highlights everything, you are probably a map reader.  You want more than a synopsis of the truth, you want to live it and breath it all in.  You wish to go all the places God shows you, and wish to make it a personal journey, not one of apps, but one of adventures.  But for some, they are just content with knowing they are going to heaven, and could care less about the trip there.  They have given their lives to Jesus, now leave me alone, I have things to do, and you really don’t need to be that personal.  Yet as all Christians call heaven our home, and our final destination, it is up to us to choose how we get there, including God along on the ride.  He already has a map set out for us, it is up to us to follow the lines, to get off the freeways and into the real adventures He has planned for us.  It is eating at Rudy’s, a custard at Ted Drewes, choosing which milkshake at Steak and Shake, and eating a local sausage for breakfast, at the counter in a small café.  It is getting the most from any ride, and exploring places only found on maps, not on ads or apps.  It is staying at the Hopson Plantation, in a converted cotton gin, rather than at the local motel chain, and paying less and getting more.  It is taking twice as long to get there, and feeling twice as refreshed when you do, free from the stress of possibly missing your next turn.  It is getting the most from life, that only God can provide.  It is seeing America, meeting its people, and making new friends.  It is called living, and God promises it abundantly...but only if you let Him.  The choice is yours,  will you let Him?  Do you let Him?

Not every road you will travel is smooth and straight.  But He is there, just like a good suspension, to help you soak up the bumps.  To help you along, and see the scenery.  Studying the Bible is like spending time with a map, only more beneficial.  For a good map not only shows you the way, but takes you places new, just like God does with His word.  He is someone to bench race with, to ask about roads to come, and who is willing to take you into the future, kicking and screaming sometimes just for your benefit.  Reading the Bible gives us insight to Jesus, and all about Him.  A look back to the beginning, and a look ahead to the future...where the maps come into play.  I know I am going to spend eternity in Jesus, which leaves a short time left here.  We know the future, but don’t know the roads or route to take to get there.  Which is why my favorite view of the future is laying a map out on the kitchen table.  Laying out next summer’s ride, or even short one’s in between.  An anticipation of where I am going, and the excitement of figuring out how I will get there.  All in a conveniently folded map, which fits into my back pocket.  Which leaves me more time to see where I am going, and spend with God.  For thousands of years we got lost without GPS, or its help.  Pick up a map today and spend some time looking where you want to go.  Ask God to guide you, and hang on for the ride of your life.  Jesus spent His entire life on the road, without a GPS.  Maybe enough said, let Him be your road map today, and remember those curvy roads He created...like them I once was lost, but now I’m found.  Let Him take you places no GPS or app will or can.  The future awaits all of us, the road you choose is up to you.  And just like AAA maps, Jesus does it all for free...become a member today!  And like the shirt says, I didn’t quit riding because I got old, I got old because I quit riding.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com