While attending the Motte Farm Car Show I got to visit with two men who
both had red 1972 MGB’s. Joining in the conversation, I had a butterscotch 72
Midget, Theresa also had a 72 Midget, and we had a 1980 B, the last year, I was
instantly welcomed into the conversation. One car had been customized, things
we would have done if it was ours when we were young. He had the Mini-lite
wheels, been lowered a bit, and other subtle touches that a non-MG owner would
not notice or appreciate. But they both were passionate about their cars, and
had a good attitude towards them. For among the other over restored sometimes
we will find claims of the only one, or 1 of 10 ever made, showing off their
exclusivity. Exacerbated by their low miles from not driving it. The everyday
driver, had a sign on it, “1 of 550,000 produced!” Gotta love it, and they knew
their product, and had fun driving them. My kind of car guys, and after telling
British car jokes, and mourning the passing of the Brit sport cars in society, a
void readily filled by the Japanese with reliable “sporty cars,”we left, them
discussing a place the one knew to get a new tonneau cover. Car guys, with a
soft spot in their head for the British...maybe all the parts falling off their
cars weren’t of the finest British quality? But these guys were passionate
about MG’s, and loved them, but were real in their approach. And drove them
just to show it...sharing stories and info with each other, just in case they
were the one on the side of the road next...
I also talked with another man, nice guy, who had an original 1957 Chevy
Bel Air 4-door sedan, 52,000 original miles, with factory air still in the
unused spare tire. It was spotless, a view back to 1957 and what the cars
really looked like. Matador red, too. And with a plethora of 55-57 Chevy parts
available, his was as is from the factory. He had researched its history, and
showed me all the things repaired over the years. How the engine was still
original, even wanted me to climb under and look to see, I passed. He was
passionate about it as were the MGB guys, but then went off into another
dimension. In order to keep all the numbers original, he had the master
cylinder removed and replaced, even having the original plate from the old
installed on the new, so the numbers matched. At that point it was an
obsession, and things that we would not care about, just repair, to him had
become an obsession. He loved the car, but the car owned him. As it had the
previous owners. I can only thank them for their obsession so I could enjoy it,
maybe more than he did. At least he drove it, sparingly.
We all get obsessed by things, and on my last Torches ride, 2 young guys on
new Harleys, were planning on stopping at every HD store across the US. While
we planned the next day’s route, they checked out the route for Harley dealers.
Sometimes leaving early, and arriving late and missing out, but they got their
shirts. And also new chrome, a new seat, and any thing else graced with the Bar
and Shield along the way. Obsessed, maybe. Just maybe though a result of
Harley carefully putting their stores by a freeway exit. But they had fun, hope
they had as much fun as we did. Wasn’t the ride all about 911? Their trip
photos would be different than ours. Did they ever thank HD for their
forethought of putting so many dealers by the freeway exits, just for
them?
When I first got saved, I still partied-a lot. But no matter how hung
over, or high, I still would make myself read a chapter of the Bible every night
before passing out. I was obsessed with it, just not out while partying. I had
told God I would try this Jesus stuff out, but that I would still party, and
sleep around. His answer may surprise you, it did me. “OK.” And so I did,
until my heart towards Him started changing. Soon I didn’t want to, and began
reading my Bible sober. Love will do that, rules won’t. My friends
changed-they didn’t want me around, when it was really me that was changing.
And as I got closer to God, I wanted to please Him, because I love Him, not out
of fear of retribution, or thinking it kept me saved. We had a relationship,
and we would visit and talk. And soon the things of old passed away, well most
of them, and Jesus Christ was truly Lord of my life. But I did it His way, for
our ways still lead to death and disappointment. I had been obsessed with doing
good, now I had a passion for Jesus-much different. For just like the woman at
the well, whom Jesus told “go and sin no more,” He knew she would, and I would
and still do. But with a new heart,we saw things differently, and wanted to
please Him. He actually became Lord when I started doing the things He
wanted-His will be done. And so it continues today...Jesus the same as ever, me
in a constant growth mode. Maturity we call, not realizing that when fully
matured, we die, just like any seed. And then our blessed hope of heaven
becomes reality. Not earned, but given, by grace as a gift. What gift can you
earn that is more valuable?
So I try to live my life as the MG guys, enjoying it and also knowing its
limitations. Enjoying what I have for what it is, but also approaching God in
the same way. Putting Him first, passionately. Not obsessing over rules and
religion, but enjoying the freedom in the spirit. So like the MG guys, whether
broken down in the rain with the top leaking, where the oil spot marks where I
last parked, and with always a project to do, I press on. Knowing Jesus loves
me as I am, and enjoying the gift. Not an original, but a changed man, a new
creature in Christ. The old things passed away. New parts, with new
testimonies, even a scar to show where He has been. The way He wants it, a
passion not an obsession. I can’t keep up, and He doesn’t set pace so I
can’t. And waits for me where I lag or fall. It’s called grace...sometimes
best learned in a storm or on the side of the road.
And to those of you who feel I obsess over Triumphs, I don’t. I also own a
Suzuki that I rode this weekend. Of course I wore my Triumph shirt...some
habits just die hard after all.
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com