life before the electric leg

If you started riding less than 35 years ago you may not recognize the lever on the right side of older motorcycles.  The kick starter as its name implies its purpose, disappeared altogether after a 100 year run, finally replaced by an electric leg, the push button starter.  And if you started riding less than 10 years ago you don’t know how to start a carbureted bike.  Old English bikes, and the Dell Ortos on my R90S had ticklers, hold them down until the gas runs on you shoe, then in my case push the button and pray the god of Varta will spin the motor.  But real men as we used to call them, per their insistence, would them try to kick start their bike to life, and if it didn’t light off in two kicks, you pushed it and hoped.  Which is why many of us still park facing downhill, just in case.  And why so many old English bike owners walk with a limp from the kick starter coming back and smacking them in the ankle, causing great pain and cussing.  A far cry from today, where you pull in the clutch, the government providing for those who try to start the bike in gear, and ride away.  Computer controlled engines and fuel injection is almost invisible, and flawless.  No more learning how to adjust a choke, waiting to ride off until the bike is warned up, and instant karma for old riders.  Life before the electric leg made you a participant in starting your bike, and helped you work up a sweat on cold days, and hot ones too.  And learning new combinations of impossible physical positions.  One push of the button and  you can ride away...if you don’t forget to put up the side stand.

For if you do, the bike will stall, and not restart until you are in neutral, and not move until the stand is up.  So much thinking for just a small task.  No wonder hipsters need an extra large latte after riding a few blocks!  But the electric leg, and side stand monitor, along with other things not seen but trusted make our riding experience more enjoyable.  Now if we can only get out of the driveway safely...and the ride goes on.  Old bikes and their riders will still be with us along time I hope,  but only one thing is eternal, and when we see that it makes it other things make sense.  And why we need an electric leg.

The second law of thermodynamics states all things are in a perpetual state of atrophy, they are getting worse, not getting better.  In Romans it is called the bondage to decay, written 2000 years before scientists proved it.  But fortunately we are new creatures in Christ, and the old is passed away, and a new heart is created within us.  We begin to live by different principals, among them love and forgiveness showed via grace in the holy spirit.  Yet we cling to the old creation, causing disputes among families, churches, and others because we will not let go and let God.  True love demands a choice, and when Jesus is the choice, we see the seeds of love, joy, and peace take root.  We can then reach out in love to others, now.  No teaching, extra study or praying will replace or hasten what the spirit has given to you already upon salvation.  The process is instantaneous, just waiting for you to begin a new life. Until then we are like a cocoon, waiting for the secular world to penetrate us and release us.  Nothing physical can replace the things of the spirit. None. 

And the mystery is revealed.  You are either part of the new or part of the old.  You cannot do both.  And like the kick starter that hung around after the electric leg, it soon went away, and we push the button in faith, with no back up if it doesn’t.  When we cross over into the new in Christ, the same faith that saved us will enable us every day.  It will give us wisdom and insight when needed.  Comfort us and guide us.  All at the push of a spiritual button.  We can break loose from bondage, and ride and live in Christ.  He provides the power, all we need to do is access it.  For years I was wary of only having the electric leg, now I trust it without reservation.  Can we trust the spirit the same way?  What proof do we need?  Is it for us or to prove to the the world about Jesus?  If only we trusted him to start our day as we do to start our bikes how different our rides would be. 

But trust is funny, either you do or you don’t.  And if you doubt, you aren’t.  But what if when the button is pushed it doesn’t start?  You will never know until you trust it to.  Same with Jesus.  Yet some still end up the old ways, claiming they are better.  And limp through life bruised and beaten.  While those in Christ ride.  Seems like a simple choice doesn’t it?  Yet still park facing downhill just in case.  None of us is getting any younger, and the sins of our youth will show more as we age.  Turn to Jesus today, experience the miracle of being born again, welcome the spirit into your life and ride knowing you are never alone.  Allow the spirit to keep your battery charged, knowing that while others try and fail, you will be enjoying life everlasting.  Old ways, old bikes, and old times have a way of creeping up on us when we least expect them.  Break the law today, experience freedom in Christ, live in the spirit and start to live again.  Let the spirit tune your life and when you hit bumps, know he is there to get you through.  There is still a prince of darkness other that Lucas electrics. 

Next week, why we need suspensions.  Dedicated to those who limp from riding hard tails.  Again why we need shock absorbers, and the one named Jesus.  See isn’t riding simple when you trust the Lord? 

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

new cars in old garages

Growing up only the rich people had two car garages.  None in the suburban neighborhood I grew up in, just a single car unit attached to the house, shared with bicycles, lawn mowers, skate boards, and hula hoops.  A design whose size was determined by cars built 30 years earlier, and in which the sixties cars of my youth barely fit.  My Grandpa had a 1962 Cadillac Coupe DeVille, that he had to touch the front bumper to the wall, and climb out the passenger’s side door, he couldn’t open his door as it was almost against the left wall.  Then gently slide the garage door closed, as it narrowly missed the rear bumper.  A skill he mastered with great ease, but it took patience and great aim to pull it off every night.  In the dark.

Some of the newer homes where I lived had deep garages for the unesssentials of life, and they would be stacked so the longer, wider cars would fit, or almost fit again.  Add in a bicycle or two, and it was a procedure just to go to work getting in your car.  When I dared to buy my first motorcycle, many early mornings were greeted with “Michael move that ^%$&* motorcycle so I can go to work.”  So much for sleeping in....but as my Dad was never into big cars, probably based on price, the Ramblers he owned always seemed to fit, thoughtfully avoiding the garage parking blues.  And in return allowing the motorcycles he hated a place to sleep for the night.   Even then I knew that if I wanted to ride, I had to be creative.  Would you let your wife or girlfriend sleep outside while you were warm and safe inside?  Cars are for garages aren’t they?  A question that should be posed to home owners in So Cal, as some doors when opened contain anything but cars.  From boxes, to bought new and never used exercise equipment, to being converted to an extra bedroom, to storage for stuff they just can’t throw away, to an extra den for the kids, today’s garages are for anything but cars.  And yet with two car garages the standard, they still have no room to park them.  Do we see a problem here?  Was what was once a luxury, a two car garage, turned into a storage unit, while the $35,000 new car, the average price of a new car in 2015, sits out?  And what about motorcycles?  Have our priorities gone crazy or have we?  And some husbands still hear “move that #$^&&**” motorcycle out my way....”

So where do we park the cars?  Driveways fill up, narrow streets get crowded, and wider streets become just one wide lane for us to ride on, the new storage area for cars.  While the garage fills up with junk.  Except at our house, and others who ride.  No man cave here, I think that term is so stupid.  Probably thought up by some yuppie who takes the bus.  With our motorcycle population growing at one time, we made certain arrangements that Theresa’s Mustang would always have a space.  And it does.  All the junk we cannot part with, is stored on shelves.  A TV sits where we can visit with our bikes when not riding, and visit with friends, like previous generations did on their front porches.  Add the 1949, vintage Coke machine, a rack to work on bikes, and a workbench, and we still have fit as many as nine motorcycles in our two car/nine motorcycle garage.  Which now down to three looks empty.  A garage my Grandpa would have loved to hang out in, to polish his Cadillac, to bench race and tell us stories of when he was our age.  To tell of when he had his new car in his old garage, how it barely fit, and the procedure for parking it every night.  As the younger ones would try to imagine a one car garage, and a car so big it almost didn’t fit.  And tell of when Coke was 10 cents a bottle, premium gas 30 cents a gallon, and it was pumped for you.  The garage would be a place to fellowship, to visit, to work on your bike, to keep the car clean after the rain, and where history was rewritten.  What’s in your garage?  Are you missing a chance to bench race with your kids and friends?  I mean, how cool can Starbucks really be?  Here the Cokes are free, no lattes available, and the smells of Castrol and 104 octane gas fill the air.  If only my Grandpa could be here.....

We lose something when we don’t get together and fellowship and bench race.  We miss the intimacy of friends just being friends, of being comfortable, of being ourselves in an atmosphere where the memories are old but told in a way to make them sound new and exciting.  To want to relive them.  Testimonies we call them, meant for sharing.  And being shared.  Yet so many hearts are like that garage filled with stuff, with no room for its original purpose, and the car sits out.  Jesus tells us we cannot put new wine in old wine skins, they will burst because they are dried out, and have lost their strength, their ability to hold what is inside.  And soon leak, and then let go.  A look into a person’s walk with Christ, as many try to act heavenly, but inside live like hell.  Church has changed them, and Jesus may be just another item in their garage of hearts.  Among the junk, the old exercise machines, and other things they will get around to someday, they add the gospel, and after a while, when nothing changes, they go back to what they were before.  The garage still overcrowded, and Jesus among the goodies.  Not lost, but misplaced, He’s in there somewhere, and someday they will find him again.  Someday......

In trying to add Jesus to our life, we haven’t given up the old man, or as scripture tells us to let the old man die.  We are new creatures in Christ, the old is passed away, but we like to hold onto some things in our past, and gently Jesus gets squeezed out.  We forget our bodies are temporal, and soon wear out, mostly revealed when older and we with we had taken better care of ourselves.  But as we begin to miss Jesus, as the spirit calls us to repent and return, we start to remove things from our over crowed garage of life, and soon we find him, make room for him, and he takes over the spot in our heart God formed just for him to live in.  We see things his way, and the stuff we had cluttered our life with we get rid of.  Wondering how we ever hung onto it.  Sound familiar?  We come to Jesus and get excited, life overwhelms, we fall back to what is familiar and soon we are living a life not intended.  Maybe a day or two of cleaning out the garage is in order.  Not move it to another place, but throw it out.  How many times have you said “so that’s where I put it..” don’t ever have to say that about Jesus.  Or be forced to lie when you can’t find it, “Oh it may look like a mess, but I know  where everything is,” until you cannot find it.  Or him. 

So make room in your old garage for the new car or motorcycle of Jesus.  Welcome him as you would a friend, and find out when you get to know him what you have been missing.  With the SUV becoming the vehicle of choice for America, many of them are too high to fit in the garage.  Why would you buy something like that?  After your home, the car is the largest purchase you will make, unless it says HD on it.  Yet the most valuable thing in life, Jesus gets the same treatment.  Clean up the garage, and clean up your life.  Put out the welcome sign of love, and let Jesus draw others to you as he did you to him.  How many chances do we miss to be blessed because we have no place to visit?  How important is a place to hang out?  Seems a story about a couple who found no room at the inn is pertinent here.  And Jesus was born in the stable, the garage of its time.  Are we missing the most important part of our house by neglecting it?  A life is rather cold until love comes into it.  Until something is placed of value in it.  My life is filled with Jesus and the blessings from him.  Stop by, if the door is open, I’ll but the first round of Cokes, as the crowd never gets smaller.  Just like the crowd following Jesus. What happens in the garage should never stay in the garage.  Open the door and let’s ride.  You may be amazed that your neighbors never knew you had a new car, or were a Christian.  Time to take both out and brag.  What is in your garage will say a lot about what is on your heart.  But it is what’s inside that counts.

Somehow Ward Cleaver found space in his garage for his boys and time spent with them.  Imagine all the things he left to the Beaver!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

behind that locked door

 After years of watching Alfred Hitchcock movies, I am finally beginning to appreciate his work.  The little details that we over look, the fine touches that if were missing we would miss, but go unnoticed because we aren’t looking.  And one of his “Alfred Hitchcock Presents....” episodes has stuck with me for years.  See if you remember it, here we go.

A man moves into an old relative’s mansion.  The old man who lived there was wheelchair bound, and the old, but classy mansion has many personal touches to it.  Among them many doors, leading to rooms, closets, and hallways leading to other rooms.  Intriguing as well as fascinating, the new resident is told all doors are open except for one, on the third floor, which is locked and sealed.  With no key to open it, the dying man’s request was the door never be opened.  Which only made the new owner want to open it more.  But with his wife preventing him from it, “can’t you just grant the dead man his last request?”  And so for a few weeks the door remains locked and sealed, with the many times stopping and leaning on it, rubbing his hands against it, and listening,”what is behind this door I cannot open?”  And so he plots to see, when his wife goes away for a few days.  Her last warning to him, “don’t open that door.”  And of course we know what he does....

Thinking his wife is gone,he carefully unseals the door, so he can reseal it leaving no evidence of his invasion.  He finally has the door to the point he can open it, and just as he is turning the knob to enter, he hears a car door.  Thinking it is his wife returning early, he pulls open the door and rushes in to hide.  And plummets 40 feet to his death.  He has rushed into an empty elevator shaft his relative had planned on building, but lost interest.  Remember he was wheelchair bound, and wanted to access his room on the third floor.  But never completing it, had it sealed of with the warning to never open the door.  Despite all warnings, the new owner disobeyed, rushed in and fell to his death.  After calling out to his wife for hours, the soundproofing muffling his cries for help.  Which she wouldn’t hear anyway, for he had heard no car door, only his imagination warning him.  He just had to know, and the knowledge cost him his life.  And only the wife’s look of horror and despair when she returned and found the door opened.   An episode to watched with someone in the dark.  And the whole time telling the TV set, “don’t go through that door, don’t go in there...”

And so we live our lives like that.  In suspense, in the dark, something we are told not to do only haunting until we have to find out for ourselves, and then find out too late why we were told no.  Sadly too many people have the same opinion of God, he is out to ruin their fun, telling them not to do things, and creating a “thou shalt not” image of God that doesn’t exist anywhere but in religion.  But God does tell us no sometimes and for our own good.  But when we disobey, we suffer, and many times cannot look back and obtain a do over like we did when we were kids.  In one Old Testament story we are told of a king who is told to defeat all his enemies on the battle field.  But showing mercy to one he disobeys God, and years later just before that General he didn’t kill attacks him, remembers God’s word to him, “to take no prisoners, and totally defeat his enemy.”  Maybe the last words going through his mind before his enemy runs his lance through him.  God knew, God warned, he didn’t listen.  How many times have we not listened, have not obeyed and wished we had?  Leaving too soon before the end, forming our own judgments, and coming to wrong conclusions, sometimes fatal.  If only I had listened is no way to go through life,no way to reflect on what may have been. But when we listen, we get the benefits...

On one return trip from Canada we stopped to spend the night in Reno.  Seeing a sign at Circus Circus advertising “ROOMS FOR $19” we stopped and got in line, with about 200 people in front of us who had seen the same sign.  After not moving, a woman stood up on the counter and announced “NO MORE $19 ROOMS!” and the place emptied out.  And suddenly we were first in line, when she said, “BUT WE DO HAVE SUITES FOR $29!” And how sweet is was.  We got a huge suite, a corner room with a hot tub for $29.  Those who left only heard her first part of the message, and suffered for it.  Giving a new meaning to us of the scripture “and the first shall be last.”  The Lord had a room waiting for us, the others only heard the price and never got the bargain. 

Yet still deny the knocking of Jesus on their heart.  With prejudices, and listening to others who doubt, they miss out on the blessings he offers.  Yet others listen to the spirit and are saved, but give up listening after, thinking “I’m saved, what else can there be to it?”  And miss out on more blessings, impatiently waiting for heaven for their reward.  Curious about the things of God, but never willing to pen the door and look in.  They are just the opposite of Hitch’s man who opened the door he was told not to, they fear and let their fears dictate their lives.  The inability to trust and obey leaves them bitter, and soon turn on religion, blaming “that Jesus thing that doesn’t work.”  When it was them that failed, not Jesus.

When Barney Fife conducted an interview he explained “the first rule is to obey all rules.”  Simple enough, and God’s law is love.  First him, then your neighbor as yourself.  Which you cannot do if you don’t love yourself, for scripture also tells us we treat others as we feel about ourselves.  One door God knocks on wishing us to open up to is spirit, another he tells us to beware and keep closed for our own safety.  But how to know.....by trusting God, who hears and answers.  Not rushing for the door when the rooms are sold out.  Avoiding the sins that you know may not kill you, but make you miserable enough you wish you would.  And knowing when God closes one door, it may be because he is opening another.  Each no will be followed by a better yes....

Religion offers a cheap room, Jesus offers us a suite.  Just for us.  But it takes trust, and you don’t trust someone you don’t know.  Get to know Jesus, read his word, let the spirit give the words meaning, and listen to that still small voice.  And when he locks a door, leave it locked until God opens it.  Or you just may get the shaft! 

Don’t wait for years to see the little details Jesus is in your life. Don’t live a life not noticing him.

“And now for something completely different...Good evening.”  Don’t let your legacy be “if only I had listened.” 

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

cast your bread upon the waters, and don't forget the Twinkies

When it comes to camping I have always been a Tenderfoot.  I remember my first Boy Scout overnighter, Troop 104, and I had just joined a den with Bill, Glenn, Tom, and Joe.  They were experienced, read that as wild, and I was new.  I had slept out at friend’s houses, and taken walks dodging neighbors and cops, at least in our fertile imaginations, but here was a real overnighter, in a tent, with friends who were scouts, and were supposed to know what to do.  Supposed.  And as we selected our campsite along the Delaware Canal at Washington’s Crossing State Park, these guys soon had it set up, and we went out to explore.  Which the troop leaders identified as getting into trouble.  We weren’t lost, we knew where we were, even if they didn’t, as we had wandered away from the group, and were cutting our initials in a tree.  Which I learned quickly identified you as the culprit, so what about the other dozen or so carved into this tree, we were guilty of a sin against scouting.  I mean, what else do you do with your official Boy Scout pocket knife?  Whittle?  We were forgiven, but we had not gotten way with anything...yet.  And soon it was time for dinner.

Where we each had planned our own meals within our dens.  The older guys had one up on us, almost constructing a kitchen in the woods, like on Rawhide with Wishbone cooking.  For us we had decided on steak, we each had gone shopping for our own piece, a can of corn, cooked over the fire, baked potatoes wrapped in foil, and Twinkies for dessert.  Not allowed, but brought along anyway.  Not cooked over the fire.  And Joe was the cook, or thought he was, and soon we wanted to kill him.  But didn’t.  The grill had slipped off the rocks he had organized, causing our almost done meat to fall into the dirt!  But the worst part wasn’t over, he then threw three of the four into the canal because they were dirty!  I still wonder why his was the only one not thrown.  But it caused an uproar, and after a day of adventure and discipline, our meal of corn and potatoes just didn’t make it.  The Twinkies were gone by dinner time, and we were hungry.  And it seemed all the other scouts had brought just enough for themselves.  Later a few weinies toasted over the bonfire with marsh mellows helped a little, but by dawn we were starving.  So we did what any animal does when hungry, we went in search of food, and walked four miles into New Hope, finding a store open in these predawn hours.  Did I mention we were forbidden from leaving the campground, alone?

And we thought we had made it back unnoticed, as it was still dark, and only a few were up.  Our stomachs full with beef jerky, more Twinkies, chocolate milk, and a pork roll sandwich, we were full.  But some good scout is always there to do his duty, and we were ratted out for our breakfast run.  Which we were made an example of during the pancake breakfast, as how dangerous it is to separate from the group, not advise our leaders, and how at age 13 we could have been arrested.  Add in our Scout knife as a weapon...Throw in the usual how this reflected on our troop and family, and honestly, we didn’t get it.  We were taught to be resourceful, and we were.  We were hungry and found food.  My first overnighter and I was branded a criminal within the troop, and for all my other campouts with them, we would be reminded not to wander off.  We looked at it different.  We had saved Joe’s life when he tossed our steaks into the canal by not throwing him in also, had sourced food on our own, hadn’t harmed any animals, and somehow managed to do all this without having to use any of our Boy Scout first aid training.  In our eyes we were successful....to the troop an example of Scouts going out on their own.  Highly frowned upon.  Which may have been an early sign of my later life in Christ.

The spirit calls us to Jesus, we get saved, join a fellowship, and soon want to fit in.  But we aren’t trained what to do when confronted with problems.  “Turn to Jesus,” we are told, while the body we are in prays, but doesn’t reach out.  But as I have always found, God provides, and at least one person is all it takes.  Many times we have been blessed by gifts from others, whose only explanation is “God told me to give it to you.”  Many times in secret, with no one else aware, no church corporate prayer, no special offering, or being anointed with oil.  God knows our needs, has them already planned for, but it takes a step of faith to see how he will answer.  And in doing so, have been on the giving end many times.  In fact, many times we have broken rank with the church, and gone on to minister as God directed, while they meet to decide if they are going to feed the hungry.  Allow an ex-con to come to their church.  To see if anyone is interested in hospital ministry.  While others suffer, the church meets.  But it also gives the rebels among the Christians time to step up and out, to use the brain God gave to them, to use the heart Jesus has changed, and see the spirit move on them.  To be part of the blessing. 

For just like the Scouts have rules, so do churches.  And reputations, and a decorum that fits them.  That doesn’t always fit with the spirit.  And so like a foursome of hungry boys setting out to find food, we want more, we need more, but are told to seek God.  When he is already in motion, and our waiting is turned to delaying.  And while our hearts desire more Jesus, we only get what the group offers.  Finding that like riding, you only go as fast as the slowest rider.  Rather than him speed up, the group falls behind, and anyone seeking more, and stepping out in faith is termed a rebel.  I have found I rather be a rebel for Christ than die waiting in church. When we follow the spirit, are we rebelling against God or man? 

God has given us his spirit, which includes wisdom and truth.  We know the voice, but do we hear it?  Are we good followers, and lousy Christians, or better followers of Christ, and seen as rebels?  One Martin Luther wanted more of God than the church could offer, he wanted all of Jesus that he read about in scripture.  He wanted the spirit within him, and religion left him short.  He sought God and changed religion forever.  Do we want more of God?  We may not change religion, but we can let Jesus change us, before religion does.  If a rebel, who or what are you rebelling against?  Are you willing to forsake man for God? Or happy just to be part of the group.  Like oatmeal, filling but with no flavor.  The last thing wanted when all the other food is gone.  Feed on the holy spirit, and find the living water Jesus talks of.  Where only he can fill the thirst for more, and send you places you never knew of to minister in ways you never thought possible.  To our leaders we were rebels on that camping trip, but we wanted more and needed to be fed.  Are you hungry for more Jesus?   Hungry enough to seek him by yourself?  By his spirit?  Or weighted down by rules?  Imagine if Jesus hadn’t upset the Pharisees, he would have been just like them.  Do we want more laws or more Jesus?  Who do you turn to when hungry?  Thirsty?  You may be one need away from seeing Jesus in a new light.  Listen to what the spirit is saying, and obey.  Be a rebel with a cause, and make that cause Jesus.  You may find yourself in good company.....pick up your cross and follow him today.  Cast your bread upon the waters to see where it takes you.  But never your steak.

And don’t forget to bring the Twinkies.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com