Ann was a very attractive woman who used to bring in her husband’s Mercedes
Benz. She had had a double mastectomy, and she and a friend who had the same
would come by with her to pick it up. She was better about her surgery than I
would have been, and they would joke about “going topless,” and I would shake
my head and blush. But one day she came by in her new SL500 her husband bought
her, with her friend along as usual. Top down, she called across the lot “look
Mike, we’re going topless,” as every male head within earshot turned. All I
could do is smile, and blush again, and laugh, for I knew the joke. Thanks Ann
for the memory.
Mrs. Levy would also bring in her husband’s SL 500, and one time told me to
call him if it needed anything, and left me a number. When I called the number
to get the OK to replace his brake pads, she answered. “Can I talk to your
husband?” “Not right now Mike, he’s in surgery.” “What happened, is he OK?”
was my startled reply. And she began to laugh, “yes Mike, I hope so, I guess
you didn’t know he’s a surgeon.” Again a joke between two people that meant
nothing to anyone else.
Mark Kotsay, outfielder for the Padres, and then the A’s, loved to ride
motorcycles. And while others wanted to talk baseball, we talked motorcycles.
And about how someday we were going to take a ride together. But one day after
being traded, he stopped in with his manager from the A’s, and I showed him a
new Triumph I had, and offered him a ride on it. With a look from his manager
that said more than his words. “Can’t Mike, my contract won’t allow it,” and
his manager agreed. He couldn’t even sit on it. And you could tell it hurt,
but such is the price of fame and fortune. Next time, don’t bring your
boss.
When I met Barney Li all we had in common was his broken Mercedes Benz.
But when we found out we both rode, that all changed. Barney had sold his car
care products company, and was enjoying the wealth it brought, taking cross
country rides with celebrities. Many a time he would call and tell me of a ride
he had done, or was going to do, and we agreed someday we would together. I
lost touch with him after leaving MB and going to Land Rover, until one day his
wife brought her car in, and immediately called him, “Mike is at Land Rover.”
And a half hour later he was there, with two new bikes in his truck, and we did
some catching up. He was excited as he was trying to revive the Vincent name
for a motorcycle he was building, and we promised to keep in touch. A few
months later I read how he died in a single bike crash outside St. Johns,
Arizona. I know the road, I knew Barney. I still have the Vincent hat he gave
me, to remind me of his friendship, but also of a ride we never got to take.
“A crazy old Chinaman” was how Weston described himself. Add hornery and
you are more accurate. But we hit it off, and although rich, famous, and a
mover and shaker in the collector car world, every year he was a hit at Pebble
Beach, we became friends. On his many trips to Hawaii, his wife, Mama he called
her, always brought me macadamia candy, she knew my wife liked them. And even
when he got throat cancer and couldn’t talk, and wouldn’t see visitors, his son
told me to call him, he was asking about me. I had lost my job at Land Rover,
and he wanted to sue them for firing me. And offered to buy a Lexus dealer in
San Clemente for me. I had called him to minister to him, he was concerned for
me, we went deeper than I had thought. He was concerned for me, and when I tell
others who knew him that story, they shake their heads, “that wasn’t Weston.”
But it was to me...and I would love to have one more conversation/argument with
him. And some macadamias from Mama.....a friend I miss.
Our lives are all about relationships, and for a Samaritan woman at the
well one day her life would change. Jews were forbidden to have contact with
Samaritans, they were half breeds, but this day a Jewish man would change her
life. When Jesus met her at the well, he told her about her numerous husbands,
and how she was living with a man now not her husband. She at first thought him
to be a seer, a fortune teller, but something was different about him. He had
crossed over the line, taking the gospel to another who wasn’t Jewish. And the
Jews thought the savior was just for them. Here we have maybe the first
instance of Jesus’ later words of taking the gospel from Jerusalem, to Judea,
then Samaria, and to the outer parts. We often think of the locations, but
forget the people there. And how the gospel was made for all, for all have
sinned and fall short of the glory of God. For the Jew first, then the Gentile,
we are told. And God even in his wisdom, when the Jews rejected Jesus, sent the
gospel to the Gentiles, making the Jews jealous, “the savior was for us.” And
recognizing who Jesus was, because of his love for others besides them. The
gospel became personal that day, and leaving the well had taken on water she
never knew existed, the holy spirit. And she would never thirst again, for she
had met her savior. And every time she needed a spiritual drink, she would know
where to turn. And those of us who know Jesus know just where to turn. But do
we? Has our relationship with him mostly memories, wondering how he is doing?
Where he went? When it is us who left, and he knows how we are doing. And is
standing by with a Big Gulp of the spirit to refresh us. And he is found
everywhere you look, you may not be looking at things correctly.
You see he is the joy of Ann going topless, top down in her new
convertible, he is freedom from the law that kept Mark from riding when his
heart so desired it. He was the great physician in surgery when we call, and
has the time to listen. And update on the surgery. He is a friend from another
level of society, who we can share a commonality with like I did with Barney.
And of dreams of roads yet to ride with him. And he is a crazy man to those who
don’t get to know him personally, who every time you praise and worship him he
turns it back to you in love. He is that personal, and in our daily routines,
with those we meet, we can see him, and he is available. A well that never runs
dry...
We are never told the outcome of how the man who was rescued by the good
Samaritan turns out. All we know is that he was cared for by a man who took the
time to see his needs, and stepped across religious barriers to meet them. For
some of us he stopped and offered a drink. To others he took us in and nursed
us back to health. Some were hungry, and he fed us. Some were lonely and were
without a friend, and he became one unconditionally. He still visits those in
hospitals, hasn’t forgotten those in jail, and even hasn’t forgotten you, no
matter how busy you are. And he leaves us in Matthew 25 with a short message to
remember him by, “whatever you do to the least of these you are doing to me.”
I’m sure the woman at the well would agree, can you say the same?
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com