...there is no place like home. But to those of us who love to ride, there
is also no place like the road. And among the great rods, rides, and food, it
is the people we meet that make each mile or meal special. Hospitality it is
called, making us feel welcome or at home when we are not. Here are just a few
who if asked would not admit to going out of their way, just doing their
job...but to us that day and at that time they just made it special. Memorable,
and worth repeating.
We were up on Skyline Drive in Virginia and met a man who had a Sprint ST
like us. "Follow me, " he said, "this road is my back yard." And for the next
45 minutes rode at speeds I never would have attempted, followed him, using his
braking markers, and enjoying the scenery and the road. When he pulled off, we
both waved, thinking "what a great ride." And he was thinking the same
thing...It was a three day weekend 4th of July, and coming back through Salida,
the Z-1 started running on only two cylinders. I had gone past an old house
with a Kawasaki sign out front, and when I walked back, there was an emergency
number on the door. Calling the number, Tom, the owner, came down on this
Sunday night with tools and parts-the bike at this point wouldn't start. For a
couple of hours we talked while he gave my bike a tune-up, and when it came time
to pay, said, "I have to charge you something, or my wife will get upset...how
about $20? Which was my last cash, and in these pre-VISA days all I had with
me, and 150 miles to get home. He then paid for a tank of gas, and covered me
for a night at a motel. "Send me a check when you get home, have a good trip."
Guess where I bought my next bike?
It was Labor Day weekend, and we had taken a spontaneous trip all through
the Rockies. On Monday morning, I noticed my R100S had more miles to home than
tire, so sought out a Western Auto Broomfield in desperation. No tire, but his
friend owned the Suzuki shop. Would a Suzuki tire fit a BMW? Minutes later his
friend was opening up his shop, we borrowed tools and changed the tire, and were
on our way. Safely. We had eaten lunch at Skeeter's in Wytheville, Virginia,
serving great chili dogs since 1927. When we paying, I was able to have my
picture taken with three generations of women, going back to 1927. Somehow the
food tasted better having a face to go with it. All 80 years of them. On a
later Memorial Day, we had ridden Hiway 49, then San Francisco, Hiway 1 and
dinner in San Luis Obispo. I called the owner of the Tropicana Inn in Santa
Barbara to let him know we would be late. He would leave the keys under our
door mats, and told me we could settle up in the morning. Which we did after a
great sleep. It was then Jeff noticed his master link was missing. Again the
manager to the rescue, his friend owned a hot rod shop, and tack welded the
chain where the master link was missing. All from guys who don't ride, who just
cared enough to handle the situation.
It was my first trip to Victoria, BC, and Bruce had goofed our hotel
reservation. Still light at 10pm, we found a place with only a suite left, but
she gave it to us for the room price. She also called over to the restaurant,
who had just closed, and a cook and waitress hung around and took care of us.
Anything we wanted, and then sat and wanted to hear of our trip for the next
hour. When done, the desk clerk came over and stuck the pool key in my hand.
It too was closed, but she thought we might like a swim or a soak in the spa.
Southern hospitality, just slightly north of the border. Southern Canada, if
you will. Many others come to mind, of those who loved to serve, and see those
visitors to their towns welcomed. To them from all of us who ride, a big
thanks. Thanks for making us feel at home, be it ever so humble.
Hospitality is not a new thing, and for over 2000 years God talks about it
in the Bible. Consider the innkeeper with the stranger and the good Samaritan.
He kept him until the Samaritan returned, with no chance of showing up on Trip
Advisor or AAA. How about the innkeeper who took in a young couple with child,
and when his inn was full, still found room for them in a stable? I'm sorry, I
didn't get his name...And that child born there that night would set other
examples for us to follow. He would feed 5000 with meager means, making all
feel welcome and leaving full. He was gracious to the woman at the well, made
the woman caught in sin feel safe among her accusers, and showed others the best
place to fish, and others the best medical facilities. If you remember, His
name is Jesus. And He did His best ministering on the road, with no place to
call His own.
At the last supper, He told His disciples, "do this in memory of me." Can
we do the same? Can we just be hospitable? What a call to ministry that is.
How often do we greet the stranger in church, or have them sit with us? Do we
introduce them to others, and make them feel welcome in our church home? Do we
offer them going to lunch after, or do they leave not knowing anyone, and we
wonder why they never come back. "It's a friendly church," they were
told. "Where are the friendly people?"
Today greet a stranger in love, listen to them, and get to know them. Do
this in memory of Jesus, who is very much alive. Are you? What would your AAA
rating be for hospitality? Did you leave a light on for them? Did you show
them the light? Sometimes the simplest of ministries is the most effective. "I
was a stranger and you took me in..." Jesus Christ-He is the light, and He is
left on for you! No matter where the road leads you, He is on it with you. Be
it ever so humble... and He is. And worth repeating.
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com