Lord I wasn't born a Rambler man

For the first 17 years of my life, my main view of driving came from the back seat of my parents succession of Ramblers.  Looking out the windshield between them, or mostly looking out of the side window, it was all about to change when I got my driver’s license.  My parents never drove very far, the longest trip was to my grandparents some 60 miles away, mostly on Route 22.  I never knew if it was east or west or north or south, when we got to it we turned left, good enough for me.  And so Route 22 was the focal point of my travels early on.  Amost memorizing the Jersey stretch after years of boredom.  Route 22 was America, or maybe all that was wrong with America, from the Flagship, an old night club that looked like a battleship, to the Leaning Tower of Pizza diner, with a real leaning tower out front, it was also home to Two Guys, a discount Jersey chin of department stores, Korvettes who took its place, and the first shopping centers.  Going toward Pennsylvania, west, you passed HoJo’s, Eber’s, various old tourist cottages and motels, and many stop lights, this was also like an old surface street as we would call it today.  Pass the Texas Weiners, the numerous diners, a Jersey staple, and finally giving way to farmland, all within 35 miles.  Farm stands selling corn and dairy products, and into Clinton where the women’s prison was, something tough to figure, weren’t all women like our mothers or teachers?  How could a woman be bad?  Down Jugtown Mountain, into Phillipsburg, or Pburg to the locals, a hamburger, french fries and a Coke at the Key Diner, across the bridge and you are in Pennsy.  And Route 22 continues, all the way into Columbus, Ohio....

But once I had my license, I was on my way out of town, of course on the road I knew best.  Stopping at the places my parents passed by, eating a Texas weiner, a kosher hot dog sold by a Greek owner, eating 15 cent burgers at Steer Inn, and passing the only place they did stop, Ho JO’s for dinner on Friday night, for fried clams.  I checked out Great Eastern Mills, the antidote for Korvettes and the best place to buy 8 tracks, and cruised carefree at 60 miles per hour, in 45 zones in heavy traffic.  Such was Jersey in the sixties....But reaching Pburg it was always a stop at the Key Diner, where we would meet my Grandpa, but never the Turnabout just down the road.  But always a stop at Jim’s Doggie Stand, move over Texas Weiner!  With so many memories of the road and the places and the faces...seen entirely different from behind the wheel than from behind the front seat.

An old friend of mine and I were talking about safe Christians the other day, the pew fillers who do nothing else but support whatever the church says, and confuse Jesus with the church.  Many times slaves to whatever the pastor says, and developing a religion mirroring scripture, but denying Jesus.  They spend their entire Christian lives like I did when riding in the back seat of the Rambler, just seeing what I was supposed to see per the driver, and any suggestions or comments dismissed or ignored.  As reflected in their prayer life.  And a cursory interpretation of the gospel.  Staunch believers, but like Agent 99 used to say, “missed by that much.”  Their Bibles are found clean except for a few pages highlighted, and are known by reading the weekly Christian book advised by their pastor.  A life of legalism, void of the spirit, with no tolerance for the truth, only what they were taught.  But not always how they lived. And when trouble comes, they are tossed about like the waves, going wherever the waves or wind takes them, with a pastoral staff unequipped or unwilling to help.  Seems they still spend too much time in the back seat also....on Route 22.

It has been said our true character shows when we are alone and facing danger.  Two weeks ago today a man and wife we know faced calamity.  He professing to be a Christian, raped and murdered three women, and shot one in the head, raping the third while she bled to death next to him.  The details are unclear, but for two days he stayed home, his wife not knowing her husband was the killer, until the house was raided and the police arrested her, thinking she had to know.  For 12 hours facing their wrath, discovering her husband not the man she thought she knew, and being grilled mercilessly.  I cannot imagine her emotions, or state of mind, but after 12 hours was released as she was innocent.  She had faced her trial by fire, promoted from a back seat to being in the front seat, and the scriptures now have a new meaning to her.  Suffering from PTSD she now can see the suffering of Jesus in a new way, but also his mercy.  When faced with danger, she clung to Jesus, although she was screaming for her husband when she was abducted at 5 am.  Why didn’t he answer?  Now she knows....and the critics are lining up advising as to what she should have done.  “I would have...” as if you know what you would do given the situation.  She has received obscene phone calls and death threats....gaining an insight as to how Jesus felt when wrongly accused.  Only the truth of knowing her set her free. 

You see when I finally got out and drove by myself, I saw the world differently.  So it is with Jesus.  When we follow him instead of a denomination, a pastor, a writer or a teaching, we know the truth.  He is familiar, and we know where to turn, just as Jesus turned to his father.  Until Jesus becomes real on your life, you will never experience the depth of the scriptures, the comfort of the holy spirit, and know his peace.  You may work in the church, volunteer, and be known as a Christian, but until scripture becomes more than the rote answer, until it is spirit driven, you may be saved but miss out of the on earth as it is heaven part of Jesus.  You may have every answer until you find you haven’t heard every question.  You may pray beautifully out loud, feed the hungry, and give to missions, but until Jesus is Lord of your life, you are wide open to whatever may come your way.  That higher power is not always Godly as one group claims.  Only Jesus can solve the biggest problem of man, sin.  Religion may suggest, Jesus knows first hand.  And for those of us who have had our character tested in times of great stress, we know only Jesus is the way, only he can rescue.  Your church, your beliefs, your religion may not guarantee your name in the book of life.  God keeps notes on us, read Malachi, not because he forgets, but so we have an album to look back on.  Remember this Mike...” as I spend time with him.  Funny how the toughest times are the ones we look back on fondly and see how Jesus worked it all out.  Beware, your time of testing may be coming, that 5 am wake up call when least expected. And you will be tested....

The first lessons you get when saved will shape your walk just as the first roads you drive will shape where you go.  When children we were taught as children, and acted like children, fed the milk of the gospel.  Now as adults we need the solid food, the spirit, to nourish us.  That morning our friend’s life changed forever, but she still has a forever to look forward to.  She will get by, but only in Christ.  I know having been there and tested.  Which can be summed up in one sentence, “all I know is Jesus.”  If God is only your co-pilot, you are better off in the back seat.  That’s not lordship, only with Jesus behind the wheel will you be assured of getting to where you are going.  Unless Jesus is the lead dog, your views will never change....so glad I wasn’t born a Rambler man.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25bikr.blogspot.com

and on Wednesday it rained

The Rockies are beautiful anytime of year, but in the fall when the colors change, they will even outdo Vermont for beauty.  So I invited Dick along to ride, and we did a casual 2200 miles in six days.  almost what most people do commuting, but we rode it in four states instead.  At 108 across the desert, it seemed summer was still alive in Arizona, but riding up through Show Low, and then into Albuquerque, the pre-balloon festival skies were beautiful.  Perfect weather, in the 80’s, slight wind and low humidity.  Then off to Santa Fe via Chama and Santa Fe the back way, trying to remember Madrid before Wild Hogs, and it became a biker tourist trap.  But after riding all day into Durango in t-shirts and sun, the weather report called for rain, and a high in the forties in Silverton.  The same day we would ride the Million Dollar Highway, and all the colors would be at their fullest.  Cool, jacket weather took us into Silverton at 9310 feet, even the Harley store selling shirts as the highest Harley dealer in the US was closed.  No rain yet, and leaving and going over Red Mountain Pass we still were only in winter jackets.  A few drips, but no rain.  Even cruising through Ouray was dry, surely the lower elevations would be kind to us.  No rain at Ridgeway, but when stopping for a Hershey break, we put on the rain suits, and just in time.  It began to pour, then stop, but riding behind big SUV’s in no passing zones on slick roads kept us in the rain coming off the road and cars.  Rolling into Telluride, pretty but too yuppie for me, we saw dozens of adventure bikes, seems the weather won’t stop them, but even more surprising was the amount of riders in groups on Harleys and Gold Wings riding in the rain, groups large enough to be seen in So Cal on nice days.  These guys obviously ride....

But the rain continued to pour, and the temp dropped as the rain dropped.  My meat thermometer on my handlebars read 43, cold is one thing, cold and wet in another.  But you ride on, and with no place to stop, we continued down from Rico, cold, hungry, wet, but safe inside our rain suits.  Hoping and praying we would be OK.  And then it happened...a huge buck ran down the hill and into my path, with no where to go and I knew it was impact time.  But as suddenly as he appeared, he stopped mid hill, turned and ran back up!  All in a few feet and a millisecond.  Even Dick riding behind thought I was a goner. It was another 45 minutes into Dolores,and stopping for gas until it all hit me, or the fact it didn’t hit me.  I was thanking God, and later he would give me insight into the miracle.

In his own loving way he explained how he allowed the near accident and miracle prevention to show how he had everything under control.  How he was with us, and not to worry.  In the midst of the storm, he was present, controlling not only the rain but his animal creations too.  So often in prayer we get overwhelmed with asking we fail to see the one we are calling out to, in this case he gave us a visual to remind us.  We all know the story of Jesus walking on the water in the midst of the storm, to me God made it personal, stopping a 1000 pound buck on a slick downhill, and abruptly turning him around.  Just in time.....as always. 

Sometimes we get hung up on Jesus on the water, we forget his promise to the disciples before they left.  “I’ll see you on the other side,” and they took off, him behind.  Them struggling in the storm, him walking on it, through it, not around it.  But just as they let him into the boat, we find they are on the shore on the other side, just as he promised.  God very rarely tells us how, so we cannot argue, but his promises are always true.  And even more important, when we leave this earth, when we cross over to the other side he promises us eternal life.  After going through the storms of life, much different than our prayers of stopping the storm.  Many times no storm means we miss God, we went for the colors, God showed how he created the colors, but had control over all of nature.  All for us, and to give him our praise.  When he gets the glory, we get the blessings, and he blesses many times first, as he did that day.  And on that Wednesday it rained, the next day sunshine and warm never felt so good.  An easy ride across New Mexico without touching I-40, missing it in Arizona too, and then the ride from Prescott and home.  Cool and hot, dry and wet.  2200 miles of fun and fellowship.  And Jesus rode along.  Remember him next time you pack, and never leave home without him.  See you on the other side.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

so long

When filling out an application recently, it asked how many years have I had a motorcycle license.  Even my answer took me by surprise, 47 years.  Wow!  Suddenly that makes me feel old!  Not really, just older.  And as the younger guy by a generation looked at my answer, he couldn’t figure out anyone riding for so long.  And as I looked around the multi-brand store, I stopped to pause and think how dealerships had changed.  One quick glance and I could see Honda, Kawasaki, Yamaha, and Suzuki.  With Can Am throw in, and Polaris.  All in one showroom.  A far cry from when we used to spend all day going from VIP Honda, to Rick’s Cycle and his Triumphs and Kawasakis.  Or a 20 minute ride to East Coast Sales and BMW and Yamaha, in the back of the bicycle shop.  Within our bike riding range there were no Suzuki stores yet, so we never got to Solo Suzuki. It took a full day, with arguments along the way of what to buy, how long it would take for us to save, and why would you buy anything else but a Honda?  We sat on bikes, with permission, and could proudly answer “of course I know how to ride, had a mini-bike for years.”  All at age 17.  We knew we had no chance that day of taking a new bike home, but the brochures were free, and many a bedroom wall was decorated with them.  For me it would be a new 1972 CB350 Honda, with even a calendar on the wall with the days counted down until I got my license, and would go and buy the bike.  Many hours of cutting yards, delivering papers, and shoveling snow were all about to be worth it.  My trip back to where it all began interrupted by the salesman asking “do you want to buy an extended warranty?” And I was back to reality.....

It is safe to safe riding has changed and it has changed me.  Five /5 BMW’s in the seventies cured me of them forever.  A Honda or two here and there, meeting the nicest people in between, and my first Z-1, bought used from a veterinarian who commuted 100 miles a day on it. The 1986 FJ100 bought on a whim when the price was too good to pass up, and riding it over 7000 miles the first week.  So much for the first service....and the first new Triumph that replaced it.  What was I thinking?  What am I thinking now?  If any bike could tell of truly being resurrected, Triumph would be it.  The old 650’s were hot until Honda’s 750, and many would have been left to rust if they didn’t leak oil so much.  Same with Harley, now the barn finds bring big bucks, back then they were just a big bike that was unreliable and expensive to fix.  Maybe some things haven’t changed.  Old for me is bikes from the sixties, for my sons the eighties, and for kids just getting their license, we’re all old.  to us they’re all young.  But in them we can look back and still see the excitement of when we first rode, our first bike ridden off the showroom floor, our first overnighter, losing our first girl friend because she wouldn’t ride, and a few of us fortunate to marry one who does.  Over one million miles of roads, meals, friends met, friends lost, new bikes and old bikes, quicker 1/4 miles, and more reliability.  Some left riding to get married, to some of us it was a part of our family, we mourned the selling of a bike like losing a pet.  With the memories far surpassing anyone who decided not to ride.  Some still read and dream, to us it started in the old bike shop, while some studied math, we studied 1/4 mile times.  While some planned on college, we planned or riding across the US of A.  We not only dreamed, we rode our dreams, I only hope the new riders can look back as I do after 47 years....maybe it wasn’t so long after all.

Any apple farmer will tell you that picking all the fruit on a tree makes for a larger harvest.  How much fruit does your harvest produce?  Does your passion for riding only extend to blipping the throttle to show how cool you are, or spending an afternoon removing 7000 miles of road grit from a trip?  Do you only pick the fruit you can reach, never venturing up higher, where the better fruit is?  Or do you only pick up what is on the ground, figuring “it’s all the same no matter its place on the tree?”  Some ride a month on a tank of gas, some of us fill up twice a day on a much larger tank.  But does your passion only relate to riding?  Do you have the same passion for Jesus after many years with him?  Do you look back on the good old days, how it was, and comment on how it is, how religion has changed.  Or do you show thanks that Jesus never did or does?  Over the years have you found a niche in your church or denomination, and despite the warnings, stay there, wondering what all the excitement about Jesus is all about? 

Paul warns us in Romans of factions within churches that appear holy but really cause dissention.  Practices and programs that they put in place so they know you are saved, meeting their requirements for joining, but falling short of Jesus.  “Only true Christians believe like us,” all others are not up their standards.  The are found serving in and for the church, but not Jesus.  Bringing tithes into the storehouse, the church, but neglecting those in need as Jesus confronted them with.  Maybe you have been in a fellowship and didn’t fit in, and were asked to leave.  Seems scripture had no place if it didn’t come from their pulpit.  Or maybe you were on a church board and faced with excommunicating such a one?  Paul’s answer is simple, just ignore them, don’t give them time, a sentence, or as John says “don’t even say God bless you,” as their god is not God of the Bible, and saying such would only recognize their false one.  We are warned to be wise as serpents, but gentle as lambs, but know this, as Paul writes, we shall know them by their fruit.  And a good tree cannot produce bad fruit, so stay in the vine, with Jesus, and ripen and grow.  Maybe where you shop for a bike is important, but where you fellowship is more important.  Sadly with one example close to me.

I used to attend a church of over 7000, the pastor widely known and loved.  But questioning him on communion once, if not saved you couldn’t take it at his church, he admitted that wasn’t scriptural, but he was using it as a tool for evangelism. When I commented that was like being invited to dinner, but not being allowed to eat after hearing what a great cook he was, he looked confused.  He had made his own standard for communion, just the opposite from the first one at the last supper.  Remember Judas was served communion...and we know his fate.  Jesus didn’t deny anyone, we do.  So be careful what you believe, and in whom you listen to.  For so long the truth has set us free, but the lie and fake news of religion goes on.

And so I buy into Jesus for all I can get, I want to be blessed, and I want to grow closer, to share him with my life, using words if needed.  Maybe that is why I am a long distance rider, and a long distance believer.  The more time I spend with him the more joy in my life, and the miles go by blessed.  So it was only natural that halfway down the application I tore it up.  Why buy a new bike when my old ones were sitting waiting to travel?  The young salesman didn’t get it, but I hope you do.  After riding for so long, I wasn’t about to say so long to an old riding partner.  That was a better bike than the new one.  Seems Godly advice works when riding to, and only works best if taken.  As in “taking a ride.”  Looking back, maybe it hasn’t been so long after all.  Just make sure Jesus in your life isn’t forgotten too long...with a simple prayer, “I hope today is your best day ever, and tomorrow even better.  Go out and show love others and make them feel better, it will make you feel better too.  There is nothing wrong with feeling better and helping others feel better too.”  The gospel in one thought.  If only you could see the grin inside my Arai!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com