Growing up we had Route 22, the closest thing to an Interstate Highway,
before we had the Interstate System. A curious road, once known as the busiest
road in the nation, who’s brilliant designer channeled it from 3 lanes to 2 just
as you get closer to New York City, creating an even bigger traffic jam. A road
lined with red lights, jug handle exits, and many famous to those who travelled
it land marks. Unforgettable sights such as The Flagship, Leaning Tower of
Pizza, Two Guys from Harrison, and forbidden places like the Greenbrook Motel.
But not all America is like Route 22, and even 22 as it goes into the
Pennsylvania countryside may seem boring to those city folks or subdivision
types who commute on it, but to me it is the open door to getting out of the
city. To places where no Walmart or Mickey D’s has polluted the economy. Where
stop signs still rule, and stop lights warn of intersections, with signs showing
the mileage in each direction. You thought you were nowhere, only to find you
are only 22 miles to somewhere. Or less. Where towns have more cattle than
people, pumps you cannot pay at, and menus written on erasable boards. Where
fresh pies, baked on the premises happily ruin your diet, and sweet tea is
offered as the drink of preference. A far cry from an Interstate, the roads
have names, not numbers, the people have names and not just faces. It is a land
uninhabited by Mapquest, not on any AAA map, yet so close you can miss it.
These are the roads and places we choose to travel. Where we spend our time on
the road. Our escape routes from the city, and or trip back to an America
before freeways. A road not may will take, out of fear of the unknown. And
never know what they are missing.
Did you know you can ride from San Diego to Los Angeles without using any
freeways? And that many towns exist off of freeways, just not accessible by
them? On our recent 11 day, 2000 mile ride, we were never farther than 500
miles from home, and only rode on freeways when we had to, about 300 total
miles. We took some roads that we wondered where they went to, ate at places
where the owner carries a spatula and sells his homegrown tomatoes at the
counter. We found home made burritos for $3.49 and left full. In a country
market. Where we met a priest on a mission for cat food as he explained. We
ate pancakes that would embarrass IHOP, for half the price, and twice the size.
We learned that Mr. Kennedy eats there every day, and it must be 9:15 as he is
going back to his farm. That Joe from Brown’s Cycle eats there every Sunday
morning. And all served in sizes and flavor that no designer food restaurant
could ever duplicate. Where food covers the platter, no whites of the plate in
evidence. But of late, we see the city folk encroaching, and things are
beginning to change. We see the yuppie influence, where they know the price of
everything, but don’t know the value of anything. They envision life here as it
is where they are from, and courtesy and respect are foreign terms. Where their
coffee cup is always full, and at a fraction of the price for their latte.
Their detailed BMW’s sticking out among the pick ups with mud on them and the
smell of the ranch, the only time they open their windows are at the drive up.
They pay by credit card, don’t tip well, and can operate an i-pad, but cannot
hold a conversation. At least not without a cell phone to text on. America is
changing, and I miss America. I have seen the future, and give me the back
roads and all that goes with it. Give me people with all our foibles anytime.
Give me variety, pancakes not from a box. Pies from a recipe, not written down,
and a smile and welcome where they really mean it. Give me roads that lead to
other roads, that go somewhere. Past farms, small towns, general stores, and
kids waving from front yards. Where your change is counted out as it is handed
back to you, and you are thanked with a smile. You’re welcome, and you are.
Roads that predate even Route 22, a time and place that a young Dorothy Gale
envisioned, “somewhere over the rainbow,” that she didn’t realize she had
already found. Roads built that are meant to be ridden on by motorcycles, with
curves, elevation drops, and no white lines. That start where they begin, and
go onto other places. Nowhere and everywhere, all at once. My kind of
ride....
Many a sojourner, a traveller of earth, has set out to find God, only to
arrive at a dead end. They took all the right roads, followed the directions
given, but yet ended up nowhere. They started lost, and ended up even more
lost, and wondered why some get it, and others don’t. What is the secret to a
life with God? What exit in life do I take? Why don’t I know where I am or
where I am going? Sound familiar, it is, as we all at one time or another have
tried to work out our own salvation. We read books, tried astrology, maybe even
went to church. Some picked up a Bible, but when it made no sense, or offended
their morals, put it down. They were looking for something, not realizing it
was really a someone who they needed. They carefully planned their trip, did
all he right things, graduated college, got married, had kids, but yet were
unfulfilled. They knew the price of what they had, just not the value of it.
Values were placed by what it cost, or could be invested and resold at. They
never just go for a ride, not realizing they were being taken for one. They may
even be religious, but not at peace. They have a form of godliness, but don’t
have the savior. They have no peace, because there is no Jesus. If only they
had taken the time to put down the cell phone in traffic, and read the simple
bumper sticker ahead of them, “know Jesus, know peace.” A peace not found on
any web site, and a destination of the heart, not of the mind. Where God gets
the glory, you don’t. And when you come to the point where you find you can’t
save yourself, that your values don’t add up, you find Jesus is right there with
you. A familiar face you have never seen, and welcomes you. He takes you down
peaceful paths, past still waters, and to a time and place you could only dream
of. And promises you a place that is beyond description. A ride down roads
just to see where they lead, led by Him. And suddenly we are not strangers any
longer, but friends, and we long for heaven, just to be with Him. For before
freeways, before highways, surface streets, lanes, or paths, there was Jesus.
The way. Just waiting for you, arms open. Offering you what you are looking
for, at a price you can’t afford-free. A price so expensive it took God to pay
it. And for only us to enjoy.
And He comes to you, just as you are. City, country, subdivisions, and
even behind bars. He goes to you-free delivery from sins. He is the portion of
life you are missing, the ride you can only dream of, a meal that can be eaten
over and over. He is not an end, but a beginning, not an exit, but an entrance,
with the road open for you to follow. He is that road that many will pass over,
afraid of what they might have to give up, not knowing what they have to gain.
What would you do? Are you along for the trip, or still looking at maps to
life? Right now, wherever you are, He asks you to let Him into your heart. To
ride along, to show you where to ride, where to eat. To give you value to your
valuables. To get out and into life, for He is life. He is the fork in the
road you need to take, are you coming along? All roads lead to somewhere, only
one leads to Christ. He made it that simple. Don’t make it difficult. Let’s
ride. There’s this road I know, just not sure where it leads....aren’t you glad
God does? So close you can miss Him-don’t! Long before freeways, He was and
still is the free way!
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com