too fast to live, too young to die, bye bye

I have been to the spot many times.  Many times, but a few years back decided to stop.  Not quite what I expected, but then I wasn’t sure what I expected either.  Tucked away but still in view from the road, harder to see at 80 than at the posted speed, it sits.  The day we stopped it was cold and windy, and the place was a mess.  Unkempt is a better description, and it looked like it just wasn’t the wind that did it.  And it was almost bizarre, it was supposed to be a memorial, yet it didn’t bring back any memories of what I had read about the man.  Isn’t that what a memorial is supposed to do?  But there it sits, subsidized by a Japanese group no less, to the King of Cool.  No not McQueen, he was still a few years away, but to a young actor who died before his last picture was released, another racer who acted, who rode Triumphs, smoked Lucky’s, and raced Porsches.  In case you haven’t guessed the name of this famous Indiana born man, his name was, and probably still is, James Dean.  And on this day in 1955, September 30, he died in a bloody car crash.  Like the Eagles song, “you were to fast to live, to young to die, bye bye.” 

On our last trip through the Indiana countryside, we visited the house where he was born.  Nothing cool about it, or where it was, just a farm house in the community of Fairmount, Indiana.  He was marginally famous, he was the “Rebel Without a Cause,” and his chopped Merc was more recognizable.  Just 24, he was young, talented, and had a bright future ahead, had just completed his third film with Elizabeth Taylor and Rock Hudson, what he didn’t know was what lied ahead.  A young college student in a 1950 Ford, Donald Turnupseed, pulled in front of him, and Dean driving his Porsche, never saw him, the afternoon sun was blinding him, and he t-boned him, killing him instantly.  He had just fueled up at a station in Blackwells Corners, where the memorial stands today, and even the roads are different now.  State Highway 41 is still there, the site of the memorial, but State Road 446 is now 46, and has been rerouted.  How many times we have taken the road from Paso Robles to Tulare, going on either road at the intersection, and each time thinking of his crash.  An intersection I always drive extra carefully, just in case.  Dean was the only fatality, both Turnupseed and Dean’s mechanic who was riding with him survived.  How would you like to have a last name of Turnupseed and live your life knowing you killed a legend?

And the Porsche also maintains a special enigma around its demise, as as it passed from owner to owner, and was put on public display, to warn of driving too fast, all crashes happen at zero miles per hour, the speed getting them to the impact is the contributing factor, and was lost for awhile.  Mystery surrounding it, and stories, some verified, some lore, about those who became connected with it had similar bad fates.  Then mysteriously disappeared for 55 years, and may have recently surfaced again.  Believe what you will, and we will, the whole story and tragic ending is one made for Hollywood, so sad they never stepped up and built the memorial. 

Just like the day you were born, the day you die is a mystery to you.  You have no control over either, but you do of the days in between.  Looking back we can ask “why didn’t he go another way?”  “What if he was going slower?  Faster?  What if Turnupseed had hesitated for a moment?  What if Jimmy had gone back for a Coke, or to smoke another Lucky?”  The what ifs continue, and not just in history or legends, but in our lives too.  What if I hadn’t made a trip to California when I did?  And not met John, not run on the beach in Venice?  What if I hadn’t lived behind Brennan, gone to high school with him, worked at Sears with him?  What if one of those events hadn’t happened, would I still be saved?  Would I know Jesus?  We can dream, make up scenarios, and some even try to change history, but the fact is all are true, and they happened as planned by God, way back in the beginning.  His plans for you are for you, by him.  tough times, good times, times of rides that never end, rides that end up being life flighted.  Rides alone, rides with the ones you love.  And rides you choose to take with God, by his spirit, with Jesus Christ, his son. 

Romans 8 pretty well covers what came separate us from that love.  Nothing.  Shall trouble, persecution, hardship, famine, nakedness, or peril of sword separate from the love of God?  What about supernatural forces, but Paul emphasizes nothing can separate us from his love.  And for those who are saved, we will enjoy heaven eternally with him, for we will be eternally in his presence.  Yet some forget we are now also, and in the midst of a trial forget that if God is for us, who can be against us?  And that all things work together for those who love the Lord and are called according to his purpose.  His purpose, is Jesus Christ, whom he sent to save you, to reunite us with him after Adam’s sin.  Tough times remind us of how he is with us, and the good times following remind us of our salvation, if they hadn’t worked together, we are not called according to his purpose, and deny Jesus.  Sometimes in the midst of despair we need reminding, we don’t know when the trial will end, but we persevere.  We hang in there.  And we love God because of what he did for us, how he took us through.  And maybe repent of how we had to be dragged kicking and screaming.  His love is greater than all evils, and anything the world can throw at it.  Nothing can separate us form the love of the Lord.  Nothing.

So what about James Dean? The answer is I don’t know, he is best remembered sadly for his crash, his movies, his race car.  His motorcycle.  But maybe his last PSA, public service announcement may serve as a warning to us all.  In it he talks of safe driving, and tells us “be careful out there, the life you save may be mine.”  Adlibbed from “the life you save may be your own” on the script.  How prophetic. And never aired as he died shortly after ward.  But his last words, just before the crash should be taken to heart.  “Doesn’t he see us?  He’s gonna hit us...”  Aren’t you glad God sees everything?  Don’t you wish James had.  Cool won’t get you to heaven, only knowing Jesus will.  Now that’s cool, too cool for school.  A man with a real cause.  A rebel in and of love.  And the life he saved is mine.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

The Wish Book-shipping and handling included

We should have seen it coming, by the fact that it quit coming.  To some the coming of age, to others the last good bye to childhood.  For a generation a changing of the guard as we grew up, to some, a refusal to give up hopes and dreams.  This can be attributed to many things, many occurrences in our lives, but this one in particular was common ground for all kids, no matter the age, race, creed, living conditions, or postal code.  And I miss it...one of the best memories of childhood.  The Sears Christmas Toy Catalog, or the Wish Book as it came to be known.  What kid didn’t get antsy before Thanksgiving, a week off from school, Turkey Day, and the arrival of the STC-WB?  Pity the poor mailmen who delivered them, and once they arrived, were fought over by all the kids in residence.  Here were all the toys, prices, and even shipping weights, a chance to practice our note taking, our basic math, and figure out shipping costs.  Then present it the Santas in residence, our parents, and count the days until Christmas.  And compare our take to our notes afterwards.  A book I always thought was mostly for boys, with some girl’s stuff thrown in.  And even a section of adult stuff, the only times I knew of an adult looking at it was with a kid, carefully pulling out and replacing the bookmarks placed on each page.  Later I was told it was for us kids to buy something for our parents, early marketing by Sears.  They were read every night, hid under pillows to reread after dark, and immediately after Christmas Day relegated to the trash man.  And then only 10.5 more months until the cycle repeated itself....

Now I should have seen it coming, from my Boy Scout days.  One of our troops big events was delivering phone books.  Something we looked forward to, for it meant riding in the back of pickups on the tail gate, running to front doors and leaving them, and on to the next.  In our pick up starved suburb, station wagons were the big thing, remember this was the mid-sixties, and one particular Saturday spent on the tail gate of a 1959 Plymouth, hanging onto the fins that announced “suddenly it’s 1960”  was memorable. I must have lifted over a million pounds that day, tore my fingers to pieces, and never slept so good afterwards.  And had so much fun.  And when I went to work for Sears in 1971, my senior year, the STC-WB’s no longer were mailed, you came to the store to get one, I must have unloaded millions of them.  Fingers shredded, arms and backs aching, they came bundled together in tens, I still can feel those sharp straps we grabbed them by, adult paper cuts that never healed until January.  And my STC-WB days were changing, and I never wanted to see one again.  Other catalogs would soon replace it, J.C. Whitney, Honest Charlie’s Speed Shop in Chattanooga, Summit Racing Supply, and others, as now the price of toys rose as cars and motorcycles entered the picture.  Already in debt over girls, it seems the days of catalogs never ends, but just tapers off.  Today with the Internet surpassing big box stores for shopping, online catalogs are everywhere, from everyone.  Sadly a generation will never get to see how much fun we had turning the pages, sitting at the table with our parents, and figuring out how much of their budget we could submit to Santa.  Something about a flat screen, a page that cannot be turned, and no written lists to erase and update seems impersonal.  Now they even tell us buy a certain amount and the shipping is free, which is automatically calculated for you, no wonder math skills have been degraded.  Maybe the most important and most over looked book of growing up is gone....I wonder if Honest Charlie’s still mails out catalogs with decals?

A popular question found in Christian circles is “are you in the word?”  Some trying to brag of countless hours stooped over an open Bible memorizing, to some an encouragement when your life takes a turn.  Pastors encourage, teachers schedule, but how many just pick up the Bible to read because we want to?  Not to study, but just to read, and watch as the spirit opens our eyes?  Maybe a verse that will keep you all week, or a chapter you keep going back to, but how many of us look at our Bibles like we looked at the STC-WB?  Do we look forward to reading and spending time in the word?  Were you ever busted for reading your Bible under the covers by flashlight?  Were your kids?  But my usual comeback when asked, is “is the word in you?”  There is a difference.  Some carry a Bible everywhere, including their i-something.  Some have multiple ones, quoting scripture than the version.  Greek to English, Jewish to English, NIV, NLT, NAS, KJV, and NKJV, and the list goes on.  So I ask you, “is the word in you?”  Does your life reflect Jesus Christ, who is the word?  Is Jesus in you?  Your thoughts, actions, attitudes, and lifestyle?  Do you quote it more than live it?  Is the word truly written on your hearts, or has it become a study instead of a life led by the spirit?  Is the word in you?

Upon salvation we are given the holy spirit, how many of us try to go it alone, when the spirit is there to guide and remind?  To warn and give wisdom?  To give us peace, and to have a special time of fellowship?  To get spiritual insight no lesson can provide, because the spirit reveals the mysteries of Christ.  And it comes in a version you can have with you always, even under the covers.  No flashlights needed.  In a crowd, the spirit gives insight, direction, and words you need.  Are you in the word, or is the word in you?

With so much talk of the early church, and how we should model ourselves after them, do we need to be reminded they were 1400+ yeas before the printing press?  No Barnes and Nobles, no internet, no KWVE to listen to, they had the word written on their hearts.  Paul had no books in prison, yet under the spirit wrote most of the New Testament.  John had no writing supplies on Patmos, yet the spirit wrote Revelation on his heart to be written down later.  In both cases, Jesus the word was in them.  Now are you studying to be approved, to be tested, or does the Bible have the appeal of the STC-WB?  Do you believe Santa is coming more than you believe Jesus is coming?  Take some time today, ask God to reveal his spirit within you.  And after he talks to you, prove it in his word.  That is studying to find yourself approved, testing the spirit to see if it is of God.  And if he talks in a language other than NIV or others, it is because he speaks your language, and knows your heart.  No ye’s and thee’s there.  And his words are gently written there, no mistakes about it.  And much lighter than the Wish Book.  Ask God via his spirit to give you a desire for him and his word, and watch as the word is in you and changes your life.  Oh, and by the way, the shipping is free.  Is your favorite wish book the Bible?  Why wish when you can have....

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

rocks in your pockets weighing you down?

As a service advisor, we always, or were supposed to always do a walk around of the customer’s vehicle while writing it up.  The purpose was to identify any damage done to the car when it arrived, so if the need occurred, we could compare it when it left.  We would point out the dings, many, scrapes, many, and missing pieces to the customer, and have them sign off on it.  Simple, you say, and it sounds like it, but there were times we met with great resistance.  And other times we were set up, so they could get free repairs done.  But when we were faithful to the report, we had the evidence if an argument occurred, and their signature.

The most common complaint of “I didn’t do that” was on the right side of their cars.  People get out on the left, and very rarely walk around their cars, and if they do, don’t look back.  And so many dings, scratches, and missing trim occur on right side, the side not seen by the driver.  And when pointed out during a walk around, many were surprised, “how did that happen?”  and the absentee spouse was immediately blamed.  With one outstanding claim that his wife hated the car, so purposely opened her door into the wall in their garage.  Many times....”yeah I know...” but had no explanation for his side.  For the most part people were honest, but embarrassed, and “I’m going to fix it someday” was often heard.  And then there were the dishonest ones....

“Every time I bring my car in you damage it,”  so why do you keep coming back.  And we made notes in their file to beware.  From you got it dirty, to you backed into to a pole while here, we addressed every issue.  In regards to poles, we would paint them bright orange, “No mam the white paint on your bumper didn’t happen here, we have nothing painted that color.”  Some would back off, then others would get more aggressive.  The threatening would begin, and we held our ground.  I’m still amazed at how my parent’s heritage, my lack of education, and being told to do anatomically impossible things had anything to do with their hitting something and not fessing up to it. 

One occurrence at Mercedes Benz had a woman immediately upon picking up her car, go to the front of it, and go into a melt down.  Screaming and yelling threats about supposed damage by us to her car, she got madder when I asked about the dirt and rust in the supposed new accident damage.  She was busted, and I later found she had tried this before, and since I was the new guy, I was the prime target.  But the rare times we did do anything, I immediately called the customer, told them what happened and we took care of it.  Which was a rare occurrence, I was always amazed at how many didn’t get damaged, dealing with hundreds of cars a week, and in a small area.  But accidents do happen, like to my friend Frank and his motorcycle. 

Before setting off on a cross country ride, he took his high mileage, but well maintained Yamaha in for service.  Two days later when picking it up, it looked different.  The five year old bike suddenly had a new windshield, a shiny, new gas tank, new grips and handlebars, and one new bag had been replaced.  When he asked what happened, they denied anything, so how did the new parts get on the bike?  A few thousand dollars of repairs for free?  And why wasn’t he told?  But it was the denial, the lies, that busted them.  And how they felt that it was OK to not tell him that got his lawyer involved.  And a higher price was paid in dollars and reputation.  A new bike was given to him, with free maintenance, the dealership was put on notice by BAR, and Yamaha was upset with their dealer, warning him if it should happen again, they may lose their franchise.  All because they didn’t fess up to what they had done and come clean.  Their reaction was worse than the action, if only they would have admitted their mistake and all would have been OK.  Few people think of stupid in regards to pride, here it is a means to an end, no matter which way you go.

The Bible tells us to confess our sins one to another.  But I would add to use some common sense when doing it.  I have a friend who years ago in a small group, was asked by each one in it to confess a secret sin, his was porno as a kid.  As he turned to his brothers and confessed what had happened long ago, they condemned him, and the gossip began.  After his confession, the other’s confessions were of much lesser sins, and the sanctity of their sinful life assured.  He was marked for life by them.  Recently another man confessed in his small group of a problem, and when he didn’t want to take the group’s advice, was banished from it.  And the word soon got around in the church abut his sin, he had only told them, their small group was actually as gossip group.  And yet a third man tells me how he must be born again again and rebaptized to assure the church he is really saved.  So as to not cast any doubt on his salvation.  He needs to meet their expectations, can’t have any sinners in church.  Truth is, if bad PR would close the church, it would be gone long ago.  And in each case, they acted as judge, jury, and executioner.  Ready to kill the wounded rather than revive them.  Of course if it happened to them, it may be different...

So cast your cares, your burdens on Jesus.  His yoke is easy, his forgiveness real, and forever.  Some are sorry for just getting caught, others realize what they did was wrong and repent.  God knows, he doesn’t need us to administer our own kind of justice.  He wants us to forgive their trespasses, as Jesus forgives us.  Men quickly establish a double standard, Jesus never does.  And when you give him the burden of sin, of your cares, and concerns, he will take them.  Bearing us up in his love, remember that next time you pray for that jerk over there.  Do it in love, for the sin you accuse someone else of you may be guilty of yourself.  God makes it easy, go to Jesus first, then let him deal with it.  Now about those stones in your pockets weighing you down...

When the crowd dispersed after Jesus wrote in the dirt, he asked “woman where are your accusers?”  He had told them “he who is without sin cast the first stone.”  And the crowd fled, we will never know what he wrote, but his words sure were powerful.  That is the kind of forgiveness he offers, more than just saying “I’m sorry.”  So take a walk around your car, your bike, and your life.  You may find areas of damage you missed, or are denying.  Come clean with Jesus, be forgiven, and forgive others.  But forgive yourself too, for when you love your brother as you love yourself, you are doing the will of God.  And no one can fully love when we have unconfessed sin, sin is what gets between us and God.  And maybe keep your small group confessions to a smaller group, of one.  If in doubt, ask to see his hands, he is qualified.  Now about that problem you have.....please don’t tell me, tell Jesus.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com