gorging on the Rio Grande

Why do we wait to learn some of the most interesting and useful things until later in life?  Where was this supply of needed information when I could have used it, or at least benefitted from it?  For instance I lived a few blocks off Route 66 in 1975-76, Central NE in Albuquerque, in a time when no one cared, or could care less.  Today if I had paid attention, I could publish my memoirs of “Life Along Route 66,” available in paperback or Kindle.  “Missed by that much,” as Agent 86 used to say.  But moving to New Mexico, when my Jersey friends wondered if they spoke English, lived in tepees, and had electricity, I remembered stories of Pecos Bill and the Rio Grande River from elementary school songs.  I imagined old cow hands on the Rio Grande, campfires with coyotes howling, and a rushing river based  on its name, Big River.  Maybe I was safer sticking to future Route 66 culture....as the Rio Grande in many places is anything but grand.  Long, but not so wide in places.  Some places you can walk across it, where only a few miles south it is wide and deep.  But only a few miles north, near Taos, it runs through a deep gorge, with only a bridge across it.  Not there when the pioneers and first settles arrived, they had to step back and wonder what to do next.  I can only imagine after hundreds of miles across prairies and then high desert, how welcoming a river would have been.  But only to find no way to get down to it, or even across it.  Giving a new meaning to end of the trail.

From the north you can see it from the Sangre de Cristo mountains, the Blood of Christ, from the south no way until you are upon.  No one pioneered from the west, so it was up to the eastern folk to deal with it.  Just a big hole in the ground stopping them and leaving a mark for their forward progress, how many headed north into the mountains, or were smart enough to head south for a few days and walk across.  Today a bridge crosses it, a few seconds at 65mph, with the locals selling trinkets and other junk, a sort of Grand Canyon of New Mexico if you will, been there, done that, and have the photos to prove it, no t-shirts available at the time.  But thanks to the Rio Grande Gorge and the bridge across it, today we can see just how Grande the Rio here is, and to tell others, no AAA 175 years ago.

So the Rio Grande has many faces along its route, with a green belt caressing it as it flows through Albuquerque.  From atop The Crest, or from Juan Tabo Campground, you can see a strip of lush green trees as the river goes through town, then fades away again to the north or south.  A view that made quite an impact on this Jersey transplant, and new Christian.  Psalm One was an early teaching, and it tells of a tree planted by water who in its season bears fruit.  Whose leaf shall never wither.  The water being the holy spirit, the fruit is of the spirit, not self induced or taught.  Spirit based, only the spirit can bear spiritual fruit.  I often think of the Rio Grande here, what a beautiful example of how the spirit gives life to an otherwise desert area, and how when we are in the spirit, we will also.  Maybe it explains how some come so close to the water but never go in, or see a gorge and throw up their hands in disgust.  Some will try a detour or stay put, while others are drawn by the spirit to it.  Paul tells us “God is not mocked, whoever sows seeds to please the flesh will reap destruction, but whoever sows seeds to the spirit will reap eternal life.”  We don’t have to wait until we die to experience either one, for Jesus promised on earth as it is in heaven right now.  We can have all the joy of the spirit right now, or just enjoy getting by from one disaster to the next.

So I have learned to gorge on the Rio Grande, or really the spirit.  I enjoy being loved, having joy and peace, being good and kind, seeing Jesus in my long suffering, and learning self control is based upon my choices.  But it all points to Jesus.  Maybe that is why New Mexico is called “the Land of Enchantment.”  From the Sangre de Cristos to the Rio Grande, to the indescribable colors in the sunset, you can see where God set his grace on thee.  All roads lead to somewhere, the bridge across the Rio Grande Gorge is 150 miles or more from any freeway.  Not on the way to anything, unless you know where you are going.  Do you know where you are going when you die?  Are you sure?

Water never looked so appealing as in a desert.  In a desert now, need a drink from God?  His water is available, just like it was to the woman at the well, so we can thirst no more.  But it is up to you, what do you do when confronted by the holy spirit?  Take a ride up tot Crest in Albuquerque and see things from above as God does.  Sometimes things are so close we miss them, it just takes a different perspective.  Only available via the holy spirit, and at prices you can afford.  For like Abraham, we are just sojourners, travelers on this earth for a short while.  God gave him a choice just like he does us.  Jesus was baptized in the Jordan in a low spot, but the spirit rose up in the form of a dove.  Don’t let a gap in your walk with Christ deter you, take in the living water of his spirit today.  For just like the disciples in the boat in the midst of the storm, they made it to the other side just as Jesus said they would.  And to that I say “yippie yi oh kayah!”

No need to wait for the book to come out either....and of course Route 66 crosses over it!  New Mexico, it ain’t new and it ain’t Mexico.

love with compassion,

MIkematthew25biker.blogspot.com

Capt. Hook rode a Guzzi

Moto Guzzi’s have always been an anomaly to me.  I just don’t get them.  For over 40 years when first exposed to them by a Guzzi nut, a guy I worked with named Rick, aka Capt. Hook, because he looked  like him, he loved them, and I think actually liked being as unique as his ride.  To me they were just a big and overweight bike ridden by the SFPD in Dirty Harry, but to those who loved the Italian breed, they are loved and adored.  And I still don’t get it!  Wasn’t the motor based on a tractor motor?  I can go with the opposed twin, but a Vee?  With those heads sticking up at those gawking at me?  But over the years I have mellowed on them, still not a believer in them, but talking with friends who have newer ones, they appreciate them for what they are.  The rest of us appreciate them for what they aren’t.

Now after having five BMW’s in the seventies, I have an understanding of different.  When everyone had a Honda, I had a BMW, that could get dusted by anyone’s 250.  But they were for touring, or so the reputation said, and only true believers in them rode them, to us Hondas were the other.  Rumor or tradition, stated at the time that every 100th BMW was painted white, I had a 1973 short wheelbase R75/5, with a windjammer fairing and Krauser bags, all painted white.  With even a Honda ignition key incorporated in it, take them historian purists!  Maybe the best BMW I ever had, as two got totaled, neither my fault, and the two S models had the engines come apart, literally.  So I know the price paid for uniqueness, but still have never owned a Guzzi.

When Pearl sang “my friends all drive Porsche’s, I must make amends,” she really had one.  But it seemed all my friends drove Hondas, until the Z-1, and the world around me was starting to change.  But Guzzi somehow stayed the same....even Reissman Motors, the Moto Guzzi dealer in Albuquerque was different, staying open on Sundays when most rode, for his customers.  The rest of us had to wait until Tuesday when we broke, Guzzi riders didn’t. At least if they broke locally.  But in an era of BSA’s, Triumph Tridents, Ducati SS 750’s, Suzuki’s rotary, and Yamaha’s RD350, each bike and its brand was unique.  To us the Hondas were the other, there was just more of their others than there was of us.

But we all rode, and all got along, helped each other, and made fun of each other’s rides.  It was called a brotherhood, with no membership, you rode and you were in.  Some for life, some for a ride or two, some to pick up girls.  But to those of us who really rode, Moto Guzzi’s were and still are different.  Just like Capt. Hook who introduced them to me....we all had a choice to make and some chose Guzzi’s while some chose others.  But still just because we owned a motorcycle it didn’t make us a rider.

Just because the Jews are God’s chosen people, doesn’t mean he approves of all their behaviors.  God chose them to be an example of a people who need him and in whom he can show the love and forgiveness he has for all.  But yet they thought it was a license to do whatever they wanted, and not face retribution.  It was easier to get mad at Moses, curse at Aaron, and make fun of God’s prophets. To stand on and by a set of laws they didn’t obey, unless it worked to their advantage.  So when they tried to impeach Jeremiah for calling them on their sin, a message from God, they rebelled against him.  Treason, traitor, we are God’s chosen, and claimed just because the temple was God’s house, if they were in it they were protected.  Same with the city, they were off limits to correction, so they went after Jeremiah.  And they really got upset when he told them to mend their ways, and God will forgive them, repenting of the evil he allowed them.  They were getting their own way, and God was allowing it.  Surely God must not understand....but leaving it in God’s hands was the last thing they wanted.

Today when we pray for Jesus to intercede, we too take an attitude like the Jews, giving him advice, it’s them Lord, not us.  It’s their denomination Lord, their church, not ours.  Failing to see the sin in their lives, as scripture says “being unable to take the splinter from another’s eye because they cannot see the log in their own.”  Funny how we can always see someone else’s sin, but can cleverly make an excuse for ours.  Fortunately God is just, with Peter telling us that when Jesus was reviled, he did not revile in return.  When threatened he didn’t threaten in return.  He trusted in God who judges justly.  Something to remember before you plead your case next time.  Or when you choose the brand of your next bike...

For God so loved us that when we are saved we are made part of his family, those not saved are the others, the lost.  But he loves them just as much, just like he did us before we were saved.  So I guess I can ride with a Guzzi, but just never own one.  Straddle a Harley, but never own one.  Maybe the question we need to ask ourselves, is the one I asked a friend when he was looking for a new bike.  He liked the looks of some better than others, until I asked him “you gonna ride it or look at it?”  But we all need to remember that choice doesn’t always have its priviliges.  The Jews were chosen, but so were those who Jesus saved.  Before we were saved.  You may argue, but God is just, and always wins.  So go with a winner, Jesus Christ.  The Jews are still waiting for their messiah, he’s already come and gone.  And if they didn’t like him the first time, they really aren’t going to the second time.  Only those saved have God’s written warranty, our names in the book of life, and his word written on our hearts.  It is always safer to trust in the Lord, just put it in his hands, Jesus has already pled your case. 

BSA, Norton, Indian, Matchless all left us, Triumph for awhile, Guzzi faded.  No one to plead their case.  Don’t fall into a trap.  Like the story goes, 95% of the Harleys sold are still on the road.  The other 5% made it home.  From 1%er to 5 %er, to Guzzi owners, we all ride, we all need Jesus.  The only way to  make it home.  You gonna ride with him or just look at him?  Capt. Hook rode a Guzzi, but that’s another story....what’s your excuse?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

the test ride

They know me as the Triumph guy over at the Harley and Indian store.  For years I have had an  open invitation to ride any Harley, but refused, still cannot find one that piques any interest.  But the Indian...well, I have ridden the baggers, to me they handle like pushing a loaded wheel barrow through gravel, but I was quite fond of the Scout, rough, needs more suspension, and power.  Not gross horsepower as advertised, but power where it is needed, and so another salesman got upset with me.  The power seems flat, then drops off, OK for the guy who never screws it on, but I like it there when I want it, or need it.  But still my test ride offer is still open, with one exception, based on a test ride last year. 

In an effort to get me to compare a Scout to my T120, the salesman and I took off on their preplanned route.  Carefully designed to keep the speeds down.  Memories of when Glen and I stopped at Skip Fordyce’s and I was offered a ride on a Buell, and when I asked “what about my friend?” he told me “I can tell by what you are riding you’re OK.”  A Speed Triple from the Press Fleet that day.  So I get it, no test rides on my bikes either.  So off we went, him chasing me, and at the last light before turning into the dealership asked “what do you think?”  “I’m not done yet,” and headed up the freeway ramp and off I rode, him now really chasing!  If you are going to test a bike, test it where and how you ride it!  By the time I got back to the dealer, I was off and looking the bike over, and he got off, flustered and embarrassed.  I just smiled...what could I say?  Better yet, what could he say, he offered me a test ride, and that is exactly what I took!

Life is like that, one big test ride.  We leave church all excited, all pumped up, and then the emotions wear off.  Real life in the form of bills, job, kids, wife, and challenges with problems interfere.  Where is the perfect life of knowing Jesus we thought we signed up for?  Once saved isn’t everything supposed to be great?  Perfect?  My way?  Or it really my way or God’s way?  But too many like I did on my test ride, take the highway.  A way of escape, the testing too much, or not enough.  Wanting more of God , or trying to escape from him.  After all, wasn’t I told......the truth?

Like the salesman on the test ride, he had different expectations than I did.  I wasn’t done, he thought I had seen enough, what he had wanted me to see.  A sad approach to a test ride, but even sadder when applied to God.  In my wildest prayer it is always 85 degrees with a tail wind, low humidity.  No traffic, perfect curves with a smooth pavement and banked turns.  The tank is always full, the diner I am looking for always open, and the special just that, special.  My ride is just me and the road, but really it is just about me.  And that is where I fail , where the problem lies.  Too many times in my relationship with God, it is all about me.  Then Jesus.  Sometimes trying to shake him, but his promise of never leaving me hinders that plan too. 

Somewhere I read that most if not all of our problems are self induced.  By the choices we make.  Some see clouds approaching and put on their rainsuits and ride through the storm, thanking God for his protection.  While others stop and scramble for cover, cursing him for the rain they didn’t ask for.  An approach that defines who we say Jesus is and how we see him.  But not who he is, as we are blinded by selfishness, he is just the opposite.  Ever asked God “where is the promise you promised?”  Really telling God you know better, or that he obviously didn’t understand your prayer request.  We forget or neglect or refuse to see how all things, both good and bad, work out for those who love the Lord and are called according to his purpose.  And what is his purpose?  To know Jesus!  Like the gospel, a simple answer.

But how do you know?  Maybe the answer of a teenager named David will help.  Chosen to confront a nine foot tall giant with twelve fingers and toes, he was asked “are you scared?”  “He was with me against the lion and against the bear, why would he desert me now?”  Can you answer the same way?  It takes trials and testing to build a strong relationship with God, not just a teaching or lesson from a pulpit.  It takes a test ride in life to see the reality of Jesus Christ and who he is and how much he loves you.  Just like my test ride was supposed to be about the bike, it was really about me.  Is your test ride of life in Jesus about you or him?  Do you call him Lord, then go your own way?  The person riding with you may tell a different story.  I might have been more interested in the Scout if I didn’t already have the T120 with more power, that was smoother, quicker, more comfortable, and handled better.  But I did, and I made the right choice.  Just like I did with Jesus.  Styles come and go, you can always build more power, but with jeopardizing reliability.  Only in Jesus will you find all you need and desire.  Desires you never knew you had or that existed.  The road may not be perfect, that is why we have forks and shocks.  Why we put air in the tires instead of riding on rims.  But even the most comfortable ride still has bumps, rain, wind, and cold.  Jesus never took his disciples around a storm, he took the right through it.  Listen to the testimony of one who endured the storm, or the one who sat it out.  Then make your choice.  If you only study to pass the test, you never really learned anything.  No one ever said the test ride has to end....

The Bible calls it an eternal place named Heaven.  The road and the ride never looked better.  Like a couple told me, “weatherman said 50% chance of rain today, we heard it as 50% chance of no rain.  So we rode.”  They get it, do you?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

riding back from Phil's

I knew Donna and Donna knew Gene.  She arranged a meeting for us because we both rode BMW’s, and neither one of us knew what to expect.  Gene had wanted to meet me because I had an R90S, and I wanted to meet him because he was the organist in the first rock band I ever saw play live, The Flock.  A real long hair in 1967, the memory of that afternoon and hearing him play Good Lovin’ by The Rascals had insured him a place in my teen age memory book.  But here seven years later, a friendship would begin, and we would take many rides together.

But Gene also knew Phil, who loved BMW’s, and had a shop in Ridgefield, Connecticut, next to Danbury, where the Marcus Dairy Bar was, a Sunday hangout for those who rode.  Immortalized in a Kawasaki ad in the eighties.  My BMW a hit, so Gene got some notoriety, and his fame and mine, no matter how shallow was added to our resume.  It was Phil who would prep my bike when I moved west in November 1975, Phil who would chase me in his sidecar, his wife taking pictures of me in the curves.  All because I knew Donna and she knew Gene.

Being buddies, I let him ride my R90S, and he was hooked, which was tough on a starving musician at the time.  He was in another dimension when riding it, royalty among the elite, as only those who were crazy or rich bought  $3400 motorcycle in 1974.  Note, I wasn’t rich.  But one ride back from Phil’s with Gene riding the S, me on his R75/5 complete with Windjammer, changed our opinion of German engineering, and Gene’s riding.  Riding down the Sawmill River Parkway, I stopped for a pee break, and Gene went flying past, eyes huge through his helmet, faster than I had ever seen him go.  I could see the terror so took chase, catching up to him, and he kept pointing at the right carb, yelling what I thought was “It’s stuck!”  In a moment of clear thinking, I pointed to the kill switch, and soon we both were stopped on the side of the road.  Gene excited, scared, exhilerated, and shaken.  “The throttle stuck open wide and I couldn’t stop it!”  Which upon examination showed the cable to the right Dell ‘Orto had snapped, and the carb stuck open wide, and backing out of the throttle had not effect.  But a quick call to Phil, after this laughter, calmed both of us down, “just ride home on the one cylinder.  You’ll be fine, and bring it up next week.”  With some last line about the importance of packing clean underwear to Gene.  But home we did make it, riding our own bikes, and the S still cruised at 70 in these early 55 mph days.  It had so much torque it would get going, even if not very quick, but hold its speed well.  For many years after we told the story of riding back from Phil’s, I am sure Gene’s was a bit different than mine, but we both would laugh.  We used to joke how a bike that powerful could get you into trouble, we both never knew how and when it would, or could.

Funny how not being the one in the situation had given me a cool head, although it was my bike.  Many times as Christians we neglect to see how God has things under control in our world.  We learn and tell of how Jesus died on the cross, how it was God’s plan, but forget or neglect to know that just as he had the whole situation in hand, he has ours in control also.  So instead we go to constantly begging, crying, complaining, doubting, praying, and wailing about our situation.  With the lack of faith really saying “what is your problem God, where are you?”  We neglect to fall back on our teachings, and fail to see how God is preparing us via the experience to know him better.  How in times of turmoil he is with us, and has the storm, the sickness, or the broken ride under control.  We panic, he never does, for it is all as he planned it.  Nothing surprises God, but much about God surprises us.  When God revealed to Jeremiah about him being the potter and us the clay, we forget it is the fingers of God shaping us, removing the impurities, and smoothing us out.  Making a lump of clay into a useful product.  But we too often go right to the cracked pots story in Corinthians, or the story of the shards of pots in the field of blood, where Judas was buried.  Broken pots that had no purpose and were thrown away.  Maybe that is how God found us, but not where or how he wants to leave us.  We fail to see the hands of the potter shaping our lives, making us into what he wants us to be, and giving us life.  All we see is the dirt, the mud, and the dizziness of spinning on the wheel.  When truly he is preparing us and guiding us for the pressures of life to come.  He guards us from danger....instead of panic when the throttle sticks open.

But just as Phil knew how to get us home, how it was no big deal because he knew all about BMW’s, we too have access to dealing with all life’s problems via Jesus.  He left us his spirit to guide, protect, comfort, and show others the way.  Jesus never panicked, even unto death, can we say the same?  Out of our mouths come so much faith until the situation arises.....You may be the broken vessel today, or you might just be scratched, or hurting and confused, Jesus isn’t.  He knows far better than we ever will about pain and suffering, desertion and loneliness.  He knows rejection, when friends turn on him, and all seems to dark to go on.  But he knew his father who never left him, who he trusted, so when the cross came, he knew what he had to do, but also only in his father’s will would it be done, that without his father he could not do it.  and such a promise he gives us.  We can do all things in Christ who gives us strength.  No matter how broke a pot you are, or how broken your throttle cable, he is in control!

It is always easier to not panic when a friend is, so keep Jesus as your best friend.  He never panics, and will see you through.  I knew Bill, who knew Donna, who knew Gene, and I knew them all.  But knowing Jesus makes my life work.  From broken cables to exploding aortas, he knows and we can too.  We may know the word, but when we know the one who is the word personally, when our clay begins to take a useful shape, when the wheels are spinning and out of control, he isn’t and we really aren’t either.  Something to think about the next time you swap rides, or find a lump in your clay.  We are told of the blessings for those that believe, but somehow are more comfortable with the curses.  You may be one broken cable away from needing Jesus, one doctor’s visit, one argument with your spouse.  But when we realize we are truly in the potter’s hands, we relax and enjoy the ride even more.  Knowing that what ever comes, Jesus is prepared for it and has overcome it.  You may be a cracked pot, but Jesus lets you decide where you will end up.  He did Judas too, Judas denied him.  Don’t you, we have enough crack pots running loose.  I made it home on one cylinder, but I did make it home, and that made the difference in the ride.  Ride your own ride, knowing we will only make it home in Christ.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25bikr.blogspot.com