Mention Riverside, and to many visions of the 60 and the 215 are embedded
in their memory vaults. Add the 91, and you wonder why would anyone want to go
to Riverside? But get off the freeways, and Riverside has the Mission Inn,
simple Simon’s for lunch, Fairmount Park, and a neat old Old Town, with great
neighborhoods and houses. All things you must get off the highway to see, and
will change your attitude about Riverside. But a few years back, when I spent a
week in Riverside one night, my opinion was to be jaundiced for years.
The week had started out planning to go to a Seasons of Refreshing for CMA,
and we were looking forward to it. And it was to be some firsts for Theresa, as
he would ride her own bike for the first time in the dark, and do her first lane
splitting. She would ride with Dick, and I would join her at the Friday night
events leaving San Diego after work. Good plan, and she and Dick upheld their
end of it. But my ride was to be more interesting, as 40 miles out I got a flat
on my Bonneville. Calling Andrew, he and his girlfriend loaded my Sprint RS in
the truck, and brought it up, and I did a bike swap. You see, there really is a
good reason to own multiple bikes! And I was off, missing dinner, Theresa, and
the first night events. Thanks to Linda, a local, for getting Theresa to our
room, where I caught up with her much later. What a start, and the week was
only beginning...
Earlier in the week, I had been called and then called to a motorcycle
ministry based in San Berdoo, who had just lost a member. Joker died, and his
funeral was to be that Saturday, the same Saturday as Seasons, and I was going
to attend. Missing again another session. But being called to minister, as
opposed to being called to sit in auditoriums on nice days, I went, and hooked
up with Peter, editor of Wheels of Grace magazine. After the service in
Highland, we were eating and visiting, when news came in that another member had
just gone down, hit on his trike at an intersection. As two of his club members
took off, Peter and I followed, or really chased. Learning that adrenalin is no
match for horsepower in some situations of the heart. And chasing them down
back streets in San Berdoo, I managed to keep the in sight, with Peter giving
case. This trip of former escape routes finally led us to a hospital where they
might be, but gaining entrance was difficult to this war zone hospital. Finally
getting in, and being forced to leave, we found them not there. No report of
any biker down. And when we mentioned his passenger was his 14 year old grand
daughter, they recommended Children’s Hospital in Loma Linda, who has a great
trauma center. Stopping to pray-almost forcing these two club members, we went
to Loma Linda, and in the back door, through ER. No mention of them, are you
family? So not giving in, I went around the front, and into the waiting room,
where many friends and family were gathered-just not theirs. But two women
recognized Christian biker colors, and greeted me. Alone by now, the others had
gone off in search, I was able to spend time with them, pray and minister. They
knew who I was, as news of visiting Joker’s widow and family had reached them,
surprised that another ministry would reach out to them. I hope they were
learning this while I was out on the streets. And I was to meet them again the
next week when visiting with Dick. Another story in itself. But back to
Seasons...
Where I arrived just in time to hear the last 20 minutes. My adrenalin
still racing, I heard nothing, but afterwards we were invited to eat with the
CMA Nationals, who wanted to hear of my day. But first I must digress, to that
morning. In the Courtyard by Marriott. Where Theresa and I had spent the
night. We had missed each other, and as she told of trying to keep up with Dick
in traffic, her first lane splitting, we laughed about my trials, and what else
could happen. So after a good night’s sleep, we awoke to no shower-broken.
Calling the front desk, they graciously gave us another room, to shower in. It
seems they knew they had a problem, just not sure what room. And after careful
arbitration, just before it became heated, they gave us the night for free. As
they should have, and it was off to Seasons. And for me the funeral. And all
seemed right with the world after a hot shower, a flat tire, and missing Friday
night. Of course that afternoon still loomed ahead, what else could happen?
Was it really just an evening, or a few days as it really seemed?
Dinner was to be at BJ’s Brewhouse, sans the brew. And a steak was in
order, I was hungry, tired, wired, and wanting to visit. Next to me, there were
7 at the table, was a man who introduced himself s Merle, from Mississippi. He
had ridden out with Kerry from Arkansas, and they were enjoying the warm spring
weather, it was cold back home. Now Merle, as he called himself was funny, and
a joker. We made Arkansas jokes, Lakeside jokes, and Ramona jokes. But after a
half hour, they wore thin, I was starved, and waiting to eat. And then it came,
a great big steak, covered by CMA, and as I prayed I was truly thankful. And
then Merle ended up in my lap. Funny at first, the next few times were
annoying, and finally I had had enough, and pushed him away hard, which caused
him to fall forward into his mashed potatoes. He wasn’t joking, he was passed
out! But woke up, and was OK, but when told of how he had been doing this for a
week while riding, they took him to an ER, and he was in the hospital for a
week, and forbidden to ride. He was narcoleptic, and could fall asleep any
time, any where, just not knowing if or when or where. No more riding, he was
sick. And suddenly the whole weekend wasn’t so funny. Flat tires, accidents,
no showers, and now this. Maybe I had spent a night I Riverside but didn’t know
it?
Maybe you are having a Riverside experience right now, or have in the
past. You will. Be assured, God is with you. Jesus doesn’t and won’t abandon
you. And in them, I find I get closer to Him, as I spend more time in prayer, I
need Him more. No surprises for Him that weekend, but there was for us. And we
learned to minister on the run much more effectively than in any session. You
can’t teach experience, and no one wants problems to come, but we need to know
where to turn when they do. And lean on Jesus, rather than our own
understanding. It is good to know about God, but it better to now God. And
situations will be provided for you to get closer to Him, to let Him be God, and
show you mercy and grace. Even after flat tires, no showers, chasing bikers
through town, and having a man fall on lap...just when the meal was to begin. A
series of interruptions, but to God planned for us to see Him in all His grace.
And we did...and I just hope the next time is less eventful.
For after that, even the 91 looked good, the 215 moved, and the 60 was only
a short ride. Merle would recover, and ride again, but no Seasons would ever
give me more refreshing in Christ than this one. Seeing God in the situation,
and trusting Him. Sometimes being drug ahead kicking and screaming, but for our
own good. That’s the God of love I know, and who works all things out for my
good. Just one night, or just one week, better is one day in His courts than
thousands elsewhere. And as for Merle, his name really wasn’t Merle, and I
still don’t know his name. Only in Riverside....
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com