Just as Memorial Day is the beginning of the riding season for many, Labor Day signals that summer is ending, and that soon the autumn leaves will be falling along with the temperature. And that only the most hard core and dedicated riders won't be putting their bikes up for the winter before Halloween. Just as they counted the days until the first thaw in March, now they count the days until the first snow which always seems to come too soon if you ride. And just like these man made lines of demarcation, prices and the amount of traffic on the road both go down after Labor Day, sometimes even returning to the pre-Memorial Day level when they all went up. So over the years I have taken September and October vacation rides, and been pleasantly surprised at how many of real riders still ride despite temps in the 40's, the threat of rain, and the real threat of snow. And I have even been tested by the same conditions in July, and on one fourth of July in particular.
Theresa and I lived on Vallecito Lake outside of Durango. At 8300' altitude, in a National Forest, and with only 72 people on the 22 miles of shoreline, we were secluded already. And far enough from town-read broke, that we had no phone, either. So as I set out alone on this 4th of July weekend-she had to work, we had three days without contact. Leaving on my 1975 Z-1, I was heading north to Silverton, over Red Mountain Pass, and into Ouray, where I watched the locals and their celebrations-all in beautiful weather in the 80's. And all was well with the world. And then into Montrose, and up through Paonia, and it got hot-over 100 degrees. And as the afternoon wore on, I sought a place to stay, holing up in some old, tourist cabins with one channel on the TV, and after watching too much Wimbledon remembered why tennis bores me. But the cabin had air, and I slept good that night.
The next morning it was up and through Glenwood Canyon, before they put I-70 through, then up over Rabbit Ears Pass-still warm at 9000', and into Estes Park via Rocky Mountain National Park. A light drizzle, expected in the mountains at any time, but heading south towards Denver, the storm warnings were out-tornadoes! I was fortunate enough to find a motel who would take a check in these days before ATM's and credit cards. I was cashing it, and when it ran out, depended on someone who would take a check. Which they finally, and reluctantly did, and gave me a room where I could store the Z underneath. Fortunately no tornadoes, but winds had torn off tree branches, and some trees had fallen on cars, it was mess the next morning, but the sun was out, and it was getting warm. And except for the damage to the landscape, it looked like nothing had happened the night before. So home I headed, south to 160, then my plan was to go over Wolf Creek Pass-a notorious pass for bad weather, and back then only two lane, not at all like the four lane expressway of today. And riding in warm, sunny weather, I foolishly expected the same over the pass.
The mountains were gray as can be expected, but when it started to rain, it got cold. Just the opposite of three days earlier of Red Mountain Pass in a t-shirt. I put on my winter clothes, aka leathers, and soon the rain turned to snow. And as I huddled under a snow tunnel, freezing and wet, on the Z, a snow plow came up from behind, and told me to follow him over the pass and into Pagosa Springs. Which I did-thankfully, you don't argue with a plow when on a motorcycle in a blizzard. Even if it is the 4th of July!
And then again t-shirt and no jacket to home. Where I found a worried Theresa, who I couldn't make contact with, but who had seen the weather on the news. And not knowing where I was, could only think the worst.
But fortunately we have a God who despite our worst fears, loves us through them. It seems that when we are weakest He is strongest, a fact I don't understand, but that I am glad to agree with. The same God who rode with me for over 1000 miles that weekend, had not only protected me in high winds and a blizzard, I'll call it mercy, but put the Rocky Mountains on display for me also, showing me His grace and majesty-all in a 72 hour period. He was also with my wife in her concern for her wayward husband. And where I was totally unprepared for what was to occur, He knew. And provided a motel room for safety, and a snowplow to get me home. And just by trusting Him, I had turned a potentially disastrous weekend into a great ride. Correction-trusting Jesus in the midst of the storm allowed Him to turn my weekend ride into a great one. Obedience, just like when Peter walked on the water, Jesus called and I said "yes." Fortunately I kept my eyes on Him over the pass-falling into water is one thing, falling thousands of feet down over a cliff is another.
So keep your eyes on God. Be flexible and follow Him. He will show you grace that goes beyond description, and mercies at just the right time. He will guide you, provide protection, and show you a way through the storm, even if it takes a snow plow. And He can even calm the fears of a worried wife, who made me swear I would never do this again.
At least until the next time, or until she could go with me. And for some 30+ years that has been our story. Riding together, travelling together, but most important trusting Jesus with every aspect of our lives. Despite the weather, roads, or finances, God has always gotten us to where we were going. His way. And not always the highway. But a better way. And all we have to do is trust and obey.
Bundle up, I hear it gets cold on Labor Day!
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com