when did it first happen to you?

For me, it was in the 9th grade, or really the summer before 9th grade.  Maybe sooner, as I had seen motorcycles around, but being raised in a home where no rode, they were taboo, and too much of bikers being hoods permeated.  Certain friends had mini bikes, all made at home with aid from fathers who were cool, but that summer I was included when my friend Bill built one.  Mr. Dempsey, who worked for Alcoa, had a chrome moly frame built for him, an old lawn mower gave up its engine, and an awning cover covered the piece of foam that was the seat.  A scrub brake came from somewhere, and soon we were riding all over Scotch Plains.  Looking cool to guys who wanted, but couldn’t have like me, and girls smiling and waving, something I had no chance of happening without the two wheels under me.  It wasn’t not a motorcycle, but was as close as I was to come for years.

Ricky and I had been friends for years, off and on, but when he dad bought him a Honda 50, and installed the kit to make it look like a motorcycle, off  I rode.  Coming home every night for dinner, bruised, dirty, tired, and making up excuses for how it all happened, no one rode in our family.  And as Ricky got a Kawasaki 125, then an Ossa Plonker, I started to ride bigger bikes, dreaming one day of a Sportster, which was once described as “so much power it will put hair on your chest, and if you have hair part it.” When face hair and chest hair met maturity, I just had to have one, if the girls liked the mini bike, jus the idea set my hands and glands on fire.  But being talked out of a Sportster at Bill’s house one day for lunch, his dad had a friend who worked for Harley, and told us not to buy one, that AMF had just bought them out, and quality would surely go down.  My first taste of HD and AMF, and I had never ridden yet.  There would be more mini bikes, Dave had a fast one we rode when we should have been in school, just daring the cops to catch us, but it was my senior year, BH and I hooked up over his CL77, painted dark blue with a brush, but still a real motorcycle.  305cc’s of power, straight pipe, and we rode everywhere we could on it, and would take turns pushing it home.  We actually got very good at it, pushing and riding.  But by March of 1972, ready to graduate and without a bike, a trip to Ralph’s Honda in South Orange changed all that.  VIP Honda was our first stop, but Ralph’s being a non-authorized dealer, could beat there price by $50, but no warranty.  Who cared, Hondas never broke, and if you did, you met the nicest people.  So for my $825 of paper route money, a new 1972 CB350 K4 was my first official bike.  And soon BH added one, selling his CL77 for $50, and off we rode.  Everywhere and anywhere, gas was cheap, 75 cents to fill the tank, and soon the shore, the Poconos, and even New York State was on the itinerary.  We rode until it got dark, and many a night was spent sleeping in a leather jacket under a tree.  Once we even woke up in a front yard, but we didn’t care-we rode.  We carried our toothbrushes in our back pocket like Robert Redford in Little Fauss and Big Halsey, and tried to be cool like Captain America and Billy-I was Captain, American flag and all.  My first bike, which lasted only 5 months and 6000 miles, and then a new 1972 BMW R60/5 came into my life.  But it was that Honda that changed my life, and set me free.  And looking back at bikes for sale in 1972, Yamaha had a 360cc, a scrambler, we had no Suzuki dealers by us, but who hadn’t heard of Solo Suzuki on the radio, and the Kawasaki dealer was about to come out with a  3 cylinder 250, patterned after the Mach 1!  The fastest bike on two wheels, 12 second quarters, and if the Sportster parted your hairy chest, it was only in the wake of a cloud of two stroke smoke, and a deafening ring-a –ding-ding!  But that was for the older guys, we were cool with our 8” rise in our handlebars, and my sissy bar, with a pad should I ever get a date.  Which always had a helmet attached to it via Peter Fonda, metal flake and ready for action.  Which it often saw.  What a time to ride, and be riding.  And soon 600cc, then 900 cc, and soon over 1000cc of power would move my soul-a far cry from a 50cc lawn mower with an awning covered seat.  But the dream was real, and still is today.

Like many of you, church was a four letter word when growing up.  My parents were not church attenders, as were many others, and Sunday meant pretending to be asleep, faking a sickness that you recuperated from at 10am, or out right throwing a fit, making them pay.  Why should you have to go if they didn’t?  Another wait until you are 18 decision, just like drinking and smoking.  But putting on a tie, we went, and finally gained a reprieve after playing Jesus in a play.  My father felt I had earned the right by then, sentence suspended, but you’re still not going to ride.  But looking back, Sunday School wasn’t so bad, I learned to play chopsticks and the Black Rabbit’s Revenge on the piano, I learned the books of the Bible, and actually met some guys I would later spend time in detention with in high school.  We were active enough Mr. Curtis once threw a Bible at me, I ducked it hit another kid.  Big news in the Baptist church.  But as girls got more attractive, some time was spent chasing them to church.  A gospel for another time.  And in high school, some local churches put on dances, the only other times any of us went.  So you can imagine my parents disbelief when I became a Christian, and wanted to go to church.  And prayed, and started getting my life together in Jesus.  It was all too much, and today they still think it is a fad I picked up in California.  My Dad has gone to heaven, saved just before his death, please pray for my mother.  And to ride a motorcycle and be a Christian-that really puts the church folk into horror mode.  So when did it first happen to you?
Since you were born, the Holy Spirit has been telling us we need Jesus.  If not in church, while riding, partying, or even in school, Jesus never left us.  How many times do we look back, and see the grace of God rescuing us before we were saved?  He even loved us while sinners, or why else would He want to save us?  To punish us like some think, or to bless us?  I was never forced to ride, but always wanted to.  Forbidden fruit, but I was forced to go to church and didn’t want to.  But now when it is my choice, I want to.  And I get too.  Remember that next time sharing your testimony, Jesus never forced Himself on anyone, it is your free will to choose or accept.  God sends no one to hell-Jesus died so we can be rescued.

And if it hasn’t happened to you yet, what’s your excuse?  Maybe you aren’t cut out for the freedom of riding a motorcycle, but all are cut out for the freedom in Christ.  You aren’t getting religion, or joining a church, you are becoming part of a family, you are being set free from religion.  And you can even go to church if you want, no one will keep track if you don’t.  But like I found out, I wanted to be with God’s people, wanted to learn about God, and read the Bible.  And now I can, and do.  Freedom to decide, it’s my choice, and yours, only found in Christ.  The one thing you thought would bind you up, will actually set you free.  And you find out we are the church!  Maybe today is that day, you can turn to Jesus right now, right where you are, you don’t have to be in church, or wear a tie.  Ask Him to forgive you, and ask Him into your life.  Find someone you know is a Christian and tell them, and start a new life in Christ.

40 years later, still riding and serving a loving God.  Let it happen to you.  Think I’ll go for a ride.  Time well spent with a loving God.  Christians and bikers-real rebels in a world of sin.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com