Lately I have been talking with certain individuals who like myself, prefer
the back roads of America to the freeways. We have found a certain peace riding
among tree covered roads, speeding along two lanes while leaning left and right,
not knowing what is around the next curve. We enjoy a hearty meal, made from
scratch, without the usual microwave influence, and no matter how full, can’t
resist a second helping if offered. “Just being polite,” is my excuse. But I
enjoy being able to see my motorcycle while sitting at the counter, and being
noticed by the regulars sitting there, who instantly identify me as a stranger,
but by the end of the meal leave as friends. I enjoy the pay after you fill
attitude still existing in rural America at two pumps stations, talking to a
cashier who isn’t behind bullet proof glass, and having a young man ask me how
fast will the bike go, after seeing the speedo marked to 200. I enjoy the fruit
stands, where the farm worker’s family sells the crops he has produced, and
intersections in the towns, where you get the chance to slow down and look in
the windows to see what is selling that day. No chains, Walmart hasn’t invaded
yet, the motorcycle shop is still in some alley, and works on all brands, and
the auto parts store can fix you up with parts back to the 30’s. Thank you, and
yes, sir is often heard, and they still take cash, without showing any
identification. The car dealer on the corner may be staffed by the owner and
his kids, he sells them, and his sons fix them, got a problem, talk to the boss,
but more often than not, he has taken care of you so you won’t have any. A tech
will loan you a screwdriver while he asks about your trip, and is happy to
replace a bulb at no charge. Firm handshakes from hands with dirt under the
fingernails-honest work, an honest ride. Where smiles say more than words, and
words say welcome. If you don’t know, may I invite you along some weekend, for
a real ride...
But it wasn’t always this way for my generation. When Interstate 78 went
in back in the mid 60’s, we were all excited to drive on it, two lanes wide, we
only had occasional four laners back then, and you could go over 65 mph, no
small town local Leroy’s just waiting to ticket you. We got invited into the
world of averaging 60 miles per hour when traveling, and soon Denny’s,
McDonalds, Burger King, and fast food became part of our vocabulary-places you
only found along major highways, that soon would be by-passed by the new
interstate. Fast food, fast roads, we were in a hurry to get somewhere, so we
could turn around and come back. We would eat the same food, ride the same
looking road, pass by old towns in the distance, who soon would be shuttered due
to the new highway by-passing them, and we got used to giving directions by
exits. Get on at exit 58, go south, get off at exit 33, make a right, then the
second right-and you’re home. No more start at Delabole Road, by the church,
stay left at the trout hatchery, then make the second left after the big white
house with pillars. We are on the left. And rarely did you get lost, and if
you did, someone knew where you were going, and would guide you, sometimes with
a smile and a “follow me, I am going that way...” and a wave for a thanks. And
having travelled both roads, they both have their purpose. Need to get
somewhere fast. take the freeway. No stoplights, but be prepared if someone
gets a flat, we all must slow down to look. Or get stuck at a light controlling
traffic onto the freeway. I still don’t get that one, creating one traffic jam
to prevent another. But of late I have been planning my trips better, taking
the old roads locally, just like I have on our cross country trips for years.
Even riding the speed limits, and enjoying it, as opposed to keeping up with
80-85 mph traffic, while dodging texters, and their unfriendly smiles when they
wander into your lane, how dare you get in their way? Hang up and dial 911-I
dare you!
After Theresa got home this weekend from her retreat with Ramona Calvary
Chapel, she remarked how a friend, and pastor’s wife told her 98% of the women
there don’t get it. They aren’t paying attention, and it shows. Which is why I
quit going to retreats years ago. Too many programs, processes, and procedures.
Now retreats are not all bad, or all good, they are like the roads we choose to
travel. Yet I personally know of too many men who are getting away from their
wives, and could care less about a weekend with God. Some who use the excuse to
go, some who do because the church persuades them, and some actually go to grow
in Christ. Not the relationship, but the knowledge. I know many who
listen to K-Love, KWVE, and know all the teachers, but miss out on the
teaching. All radio buttons set to Christian radio stations, but don’t get it.
They even have the trendiest books in their library, do the right things, and
have kids who are the best, never sinned, and are the happiest on earth. Or so
they say. They have gotten on the freeway of life, and cannot get off. Worse
yet, they don’t want to. They are familiar with the signs, no threatening
places to eat, and can stay locked inside their SUV world where no one can get
to them, and they can’t get to us. It has become an impersonal life with
Christ, except they just bring Him along for the ride. When they get off, so
many times they leave Him behind, picking Him up at the next on ramp. They miss
out on the blessings of life, they tend to be self sufficient, when really they
are deficient in the most important thing-Jesus. And churches, and conference
centers are filled with them, showing off all the trinkets, even wearing the
t-shirt to show they were there. Hoping the t-shirt impresses you, because
their witness won’t. But they really never got off the freeway except for fast
gas and fast food. Hurry up and wait, until the next event shows up, then off
they go. Hopefully the next exit is just ahead, can’t keep them waiting.
Patience, “hey I have important business, don’t keep we waiting.” Sadly they
are never alone. Just lonely.
Sound like someone you know, invite them along for a ride in the country.
Stop and visit, meet others. Eat a real burger between real buns, and enjoy the
home made tater salad, rather than more fries. A real milk shake, not just a
shake as advertised, sit at the counter, listen and then speak. If the waitress
calls you Honey or Sweetie, extend the visit with a tip. Eat on real plates,
food not wrapped in paper, on tablecloths, but beware-look out for ketchup
stains from the last guy. Leave fuller than you arrived, taking the road at
the fork, stay right, every one else goes left. Better road to the right, more
curves, less traffic. Can’t tell you the name, you’ll see it. Enjoy a ride
where time means nothing, crossing time zones doesn’t mean making time, and
progress is measured in memories instead of miles. Take the time now while you
still have it, spend it while you can. Both types of roads take us places, but
only one trip is worth the ride. If that person is you, get back with Jesus
today, get to know Him, not about Him. Others are out there who once were like
you, then found the exit and never got back on. Finding the things that He
promises are real, and cannot be found anywhere else but with Him. Stop in that
old Ice Cream Parlor you haven’t visited since you were a kid, and indulge
yourself. Where a waitress calls you sweetie, and gives you two cherries with
the sundae. She knows, she might be a return traveler too, willing to listen to
your road tales. A small town mentality, where two or three make it memorable.
For where two or three are gathered, Jesus is among them. He never hurried.
Freeways can be useful when needed, riding with Jesus should never be an
option. You only need an exit after an on ramp. Turn right to the cross-and
welcome back.
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com