a street by any other name...

Looking back, growing up on Algonquin Drive was a pretty good thing. Although it came close to never happening. Not because of where we lived, but because of some identification issues Scotch Plains had with the name of the street. The street was initially called Trenton Avenue, in a neighborhood where the streets were Princeton, Jersey, Elizabeth, and Newark-all Garden State cities the locals would be familiar with. But Trenton was the only one with access from Martine Avenue, which didn't go through to our side of Trenton. The colored section-probably dates me pretty well, and a huge woods we referred to as Land of the Jinx because of the sticker bushes keeping us from it were there, and McGinn School wasn't built yet in its place. So they decided to name it Mohawk Lane, only to find that name was already taken by Westfield, which adjoined Scotch Plains. And due to the fact we got our mail from the Westfield post office, our mailing address was Westfield, although we lived in Scotch Plains. Two Mohawk Lanes would be too much for any one post office to handle, even when they made money. So they named it Algonquin Drive, which even worked out well for the real estate agents when they completed the street up to McGinn, naming the development Algonquin Village. Which led to jokes about finding a village and being its idiot, which led to many discussions under the street lamps at night as to who was the latest idiot, mostly based on whose parents had busted them and made them obey. Even at a young age, the word NO had a tremendous impact on social standing. And to this day Algonquin Drive still doesn't go through from Martine. Maybe it was a wise decision after all.

The houses are still there on Algonquin Drive, but the names and faces are different. The last memories of the street for me are 1975, but really are based 10 years earlier, when the neighborhood was as far as I dared go, and at that age there was no reason to go any further. I knew all the kids on the street, and even those who didn't have kids. You knew to stay out of Marie's yard, and could almost forgive her because of her 1963 white Grand Prix. Kickball was always safe to play in the circle by Chris Farley's, who lived next to Kenny Stephens, who was older and had a go cart. Scottie Aldinger's house was a great place to play hide-and-seek, with Kenny Corsi-my mother called him Nutty Kenny living next door. Who always called his parents Henry and Elsa. Sadly he would prove to be the sane one. Knowing where Ricky, Donny, Raymond, the Kelly's, Joey, Eddie, and others lived, you felt safe at all times, even walking home after dark in the summer. It was home, and there was no place like it. And to those of us on Algonquin Drive, it was the only place to be. No matter if the street had an identity problem, we lived on Algonquin Drive and that gave us a common bond. Long before some psych teacher told us about them. Makes you wonder is there nothing that adults and their so-called knowledge can't ruin.

It was on Algonquin Drive that I learned to make decisions. How I learned to tell time, and was able to make it home by 830pm, leaving no time to spare, no matter where I was-not wishing to waste one second of my kid time. I knew all the short cuts, and how to cut through back yards, or not to cut through back yards to make time. How the time was shorter on my bike, and how to slow down enough so I didn't have to stop to cross Hetfield Avenue-a busy street, maintaining speed for the last 100 feet. If nowhere else but my mind, I had a well worn path of where to go, and how to get there. A path that always led to home, after putting my bike away and trying to shut the garage door quietly if my calculations were off due to an extension of fun on that evening. Where if late, I was reminded of it, and promised to never do it again-at least until next time. It was a friendly street, a neighborly street, and looking back it may have been a more important place than I ever gave it credit for.

Now when I visit the street seems so small. It hasn't changed in size, but I have. Where the Farley's at the end of the street were so far away-I had to ride my bike there, now it is a short walk. But a longer walk in my memory. I know Theresa gets tired when we walk and I tell her of who lived where, and what we did. I can see it in my mind's eye like it was yesterday, she only sees it now as today. Without the point of reference I had as a kid. And for a moment in time, I am still that 10 year old kid, remembering being a kid, with dreams of growing up. But now as a grown up, longing for the days of being a kid again. Free from responsibility, free from adult decisions, and with a lifetime of memories still ahead. Maybe it is true you can never go home-but you can go back.

But someday you will also go home. For as Christians, we may now live on earth, but this is a temporary address. We are sojourners-I love that word, travelers here for a short time, and then to our home in heaven. Where all the dreams you have will fall way short of what is awaiting us. Better than imagined, better than told about, it is a perfect neighborhood. But sadly some of your friends from the old neighborhood may not be there. Without Jesus they will never see heaven. So it is important to pray for them. To share with them at reunions. To encourage them in the Lord. You can never go back to the special times, but you can look ahead to the even more special time called heaven. A place where summer nights never end. Where time spent under the streetlights with friends go on forever. Where you are never late getting home, and never have to promise to not be late again. A time where there is no time, and where the joy never ends. An extension of your childhood street, a place you never thought could be improved, a place called heaven. Where Jesus and others who believe are. A place where everyone knows your name, and where even more memories await. Not the end, as death tells us, but the beginning of eternity. A place you don't have to go back to, for you will never leave.

Growing up on Algonquin Drive it seemed all roads led to it. There were many ways to get home in a hurry when late. Only one road leads to heaven-Jesus Christ. That is the only road to follow. Before it is too late. There may be stops along the way, and detours and things that take our minds off the trip-but He will get us there, on time. In His time. For all time. The street you grew up on may have a different name, but the road to heaven is only identified by Jesus. Many roads-only one way.

With only one way it should be as easy as naming a street. It's easier. Trust God. He knows the name of your street, and your name also. Where you live now, and where He has built a home for you in heaven. And some day you will go home-heaven calls. And just like the promise in Psalm 23, He still leads us on paths of righteousness. Make the right decision and follow Him today. Truly there is no place like home.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

last 8 digits of the VIN please

A few years ago the Federal Government made it mandatory to put a content label on all vehicles sold in the US of A. It would not only tell where the vehicle was manufactured, but where the parts came from. For example, final manufacturing point-Detroit , Michigan. Engine-Detroit, transmission-Canada, and then a percentage of where parts came from- 65% of parts in this vehicle are from the USA. Sounds simple enough. American cars built in the USA, German cars in Germany, and Japanese cars in Japan. And you would be wrong.

What could be more American than a Chevrolet Camaro-built in Canada? Nissans, Toyotas, and Mazdas, fine Japanese products, imported from Tennessee? Indiana? Michigan? For those of you who just can't wait to move up the ladder to your German luxury SUV, how about buying an M Class made in Tuscaloosa? Or a BMW from Spartanburg? South Carolina! Even looking at a lowly Ford the other day, it was made in Detroit, but the engine and transmission were from Germany! Now which one is really an American car? Or German?

Confused? Try this-Honda used to make motorcycles in Ohio, and at one time was the largest manufacturer in the US! More than Harley! Kawasakis are built in Nebraska! Since the 70's! Did you know that Harley uses parts from Japan? Things like batteries, suspensions, and electrical components? But the biggest travesty, unknown to many is that the Triumph Bonneville, perhaps the most iconic motorcycle model in history, since 2006 has been manufactured in Thailand! Yup, Thailand. They have two factories there just to keep up with the demand. "Blasphemy!" you scream, yet without knowing it, you may be riding an English bike, with Japanese parts, built in Thailand, and sold in its primary market, the US of A. Is nothing sacred? Does that make this no longer a Brit bike? Does it lose its heritage? Yes, well no. Maybe! Screw it-I'm going riding!

"I'm a Christian," she says. "I belong to a church, was baptized as a baby, and it is a large denomination. My parents and my grandparents went there, and I was raised in a Godly home." And she would be wrong. No one is born a Christian, filling out a membership card won't get you into heaven, and your genealogy is no guarantee of salvation. Your birth certificate may say California, but that even won't get you into heaven. You must be born again. Not a suggestion based on the above, but a change of heart. Your heart needs to be born again into life! So-what do you do? Join a club? A church? Hang out with other Christians? Read good books and do nice things? All of these are not bad in themselves, but offer no salvation. Only Jesus....

But He makes it easy. 1-Admit you are a sinner. 2-Realize you are separated from God at birth by sin. Ever wonder why you don't have to teach a baby to say "I want?" 3-Repent-turn from sin. Believe Jesus died for you. It takes faith, not understanding. 4-Ask Jesus into your heart. Pray and ask for forgiveness, and for Him to come into your heart. Like Romans says, "believe in your heart, and confess with your mouth."

And your name is written in the Book of Life. Right there next to all the biggies in the Bible. Right there with all who confess Christ!

It takes faith-just a little. About the same as realizing Bonnevilles are made in Thailand. Unbelievable, but it's true. BMW's in South Carolina. Seen the plant, it's true. And broken lives made new through Jesus. I know, because I once was lost, but now I am found. Despite my past, my friends, my riding, and my sin. I'm born again!

Any questions of where you are going? Ask God using the guidelines above. Make it personal, He wants to. And don't worry anymore of where you are from, or where you are going! Heaven awaits! If Triumph can build Bonnevilles in Thailand-anything is possible-Only Believe! Trust God and hang on for the most exciting ride of your life!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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everybody must get stoned

Misery must like company, for wherever it is there always seems to be a crowd. Seems there are many things we won't share, but misery is not one of them. Find one person moaning and complaining, and pretty soon you have a crowd. Throw in an attorney or two and you have a class action suit. Negotiate with the accused before you go to trial, and accept an out of court settlement, and we all live happily ever after. The attorneys that is, the rest of us are still surrounded by the misery we started with, with only our pockets lined with some green to make the pain more bearable. No one has accepted guilt, usually part of the agreement, very little has been done to correct the wrongs, and sadly once you have been compensated, you cannot deal with the problem again. Double indemnity the courts call it, for our protection. Sadly, none of us feel safer.

Back in the time of Jesus, Roman law prescribed stoning for capital offenses. Offenses that today seem like misdemeanors back then were taken seriously. Adultery for instance. Our society is so taken by adultery that TV shows brag about it. Books are written on. Billboards offer attorney's help, for a fee, but no one wants to confront it for the sin it is. But the Romans did. The same Romans who used the cruelest form of punishment regularly-crucifixion, also used stoning as an effective punishment.

The accused were taken into a field after the court had found them guilty. No rights here, and the entire village was required to attend. And were required to participate. First the witnesses would throw large, heavy stones at the condemned. Then all in attendance were required to hurl stones until the perpetrator was dead. This way all were guilty, but none could be accused individually of causing the death. By spreading the guilt around, all had a hand in it. So as a witness, your words better not be gossip. Not a judge, but an executioner. And as a citizen, you would be sure to have blood on your hands.

When Jesus was confronted with the woman caught in adultery, He uttered the famous words "he who is without sin cast the first stone." We can only speculate on what He wrote in the dust, but as our savior He is privy to all our sin. His words were potential death sentences for the crowd. And as a witness to our sin, would have been required to throw the first stone. He was/is witness to our sin, and our guilt, and according to Roman law should have cast the first stone, but instead chose forgiveness. Reminding others of their sin, the crowd left. His words-"go and sin no more." Great advice for all of us who are guilty. His forgiveness available to all who were there.

But being there in the crowd, if she was stoned, He would have been forced to stone her also. The law. Never any salvation in it-it only points to your sin and ends in death. Only heavenly intervention saved her, and also Jesus from betraying His real purpose-to seek and save those that were lost. Mercy and grace we call. Once again thwarting the devil's plan to trap Him.

So often we are in similar circumstances, and must remember Jesus' words. Go and sin no more. Trust God when in the situation to get us out of it, not betraying what we believe or who He is. For this story, like all other stories and parables, are referred to by the characters in them, but are really about Jesus. Not us. Jesus. And they are told to remind us of His deity, His love, and His power, and how when in the spirit we have authority over sin, and even death.

We all deserve stoning. Guilty as charged, get out the stones, for everybody must get stoned. Question-since we are all guilty, who would be left to stone us? Once again, the foolishness of the law. Thankfully Jesus took all the stones for us. The cross took care of that. Remember the words of Jesus, and how He changed this woman's life. And how He has changed yours. If you were in the crowd, you would have had to pick up a stone also. And been required to throw it. You see, we are all guilty-except Jesus. Even when the Pharisees thought they had Him trapped, to make Him a killer and a judge, jury, and executioner, He rose above them all in love. Not condemning them or the woman-for His advice is for all. Jesus never threw a stone at anyone. Can we say the same?

Witnesses were always required to cast the first stone. As a witness of Jesus, can we put down the stones we carry, and offer love to those who accuse us? What does our witness say about Jesus? Can we love the sinner, but hate the sin? To all those who have attacked me, or who ever will, I say "go and sin no more. I forgive you." Interestingly we are formed out the dust, and that is where Jesus wrote that day. Words written in dust, for a person made out of it. A command, not a suggestion. Good advice, Godly advice. That only works when taken. Are you stoned, or just stupid?

Lastly He asked, "where are your accusers?" Resist the devil, the accuser, and he will flee. Go and sin no more. Love then, and still today covers a multitude of sins.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

blondes, nat Geo, and the truth

You may not realize it, but whether you are sleeping, riding, eating, or just hanging out, you are travelling 1000 mph. That's right. 1000 mph. Didn't know that did you? I learned that recently myself when I watched a Nat Geo documentary of what would happen if the earth stopped spinning. You see the planet earth is in fact spinning at 1000 mph, or 1666 feet per second. No wonder time seems to fly by sometimes. But as it rotates on its own access, it is also orbiting the sun every 365 days or so. At a perfect angle so that we have seasons, tides, distinct land forms, and weather patterns. Just a coincidence? And you say you need proof that God exists?

Watching this secular based show about doomsday, which is a popular theme in the science, entertainment, and fringe religion communities these days, they took the theory of what would happen if the earth stopped spinning. Interesting. Just a 5mph difference would change ocean patterns, and the landscape of the world. And using their example, the slower it got, the longer days would be, and then the longer the nights would be. Snow in Miami, and no rain in Kansas. Canada would become an ocean, while the ocean would become dry land. 180 days of daylight at 130 degrees, then 180 days of night at below zero. All forms of life would be affected, as the earth slowed in its orbit. For sure, something must be in control. Truth be told, it is really a someone.

Which to me showed the true hand of God. So much for the Big Bang theory-something had to exist to bang! Why when God created the heavens and the earth did He make us different? Where is the missing link? If science can prove how perfectly balanced the planet is in the solar system, why can it not believe God created it and holds it in His hands? For if it spins even slower, or faster-catastrophe. If the axis is tilted by 1/2 of a degree, all weather changes. And in some cases makes it uninhabitable! Who else but God could keep all this under control?

Take the Second Law of Thermodynamics for instance. It states that all things are in a constant state of atrophy. The aches in my body proves that everyday. They are not getting better-they are eroding. Just the opposite of what the theory of evolution tells us. And God reinforces it even more-we went from perfect to imperfect when Adam and Eve sinned-not the opposite! Watch as whenever science tries to disclaim God, He is always proven. But with all this evidence, why do some still not believe? What does it take?

It takes someone to pay the admission price. To admit us back into the presence of a loving God. To open the eyes of our heart and not be misled any longer. Simple faith. It takes the Holy Spirit reminding you that you need Jesus. And Jesus showing you He is the only way to the Father-and heaven! It takes just a little faith and no understanding. Yet when proof presents itself, the community at large doubts-because they don't get it. They cannot rationalize a loving God sacrificing His own son so we can be reunited with Him. They don't get it that love is not an emotion, but a person.

That is why when Jesus met Nicodemus in the garden, he told him he must be born again. Physically he was ok. But spiritually he was dead. It took the second birth, of his spirit, to meet the God of Jacob and Abraham. It took a spiritual awakening-it took Jesus! For it is the spirit that will carry into eternity, where new bodies await those of us who believe. I can handle that! The only thing that could take him from doubting in a secret meeting to risking it all to be at Jesus' grave. It took faith. And he did it all without the Internet! No twelve step programs, conferences, book tours, DVD's or weekly meetings. Just like today!

What will it take for you to trust God? All the evidence is there. How low will you go? For Nicodemus, a rich and powerful Pharisee it took being confronted with Jesus. Just like it takes today. Believe in your heart, confess with your mouth and be saved. And He even provides the faith. If He can hold the whole world in His hands, imagine what He can do with your life?

Science has theories, the Bible has facts. In the beginning, God-Elohim, out of nothing created the heavens and the earth... Which do you trust to take you into eternity? At 1000mph it may get here sooner than you think!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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even the pictures are in English

Did you ever stop and wonder how many great Saturdays have been wasted by trying to fix something or add an accessory to your motorcycle by yourself? How frustration took the place of satisfaction, and of riding, when you tried to do it yourself? Only to be reminded by a loved one, "did you read the directions?" You know, that piece of paper you immediately throw out when opening the box. The one with the many languages, and the pictures to guide you if you can't read. If not, you probably are lying. And when you finally did consult the instructions that came with the part, argued even more with them, as you you find there is no way the instructions could be right. And the final insult where in frustration you read the removal instructions, which state "to remove reverse installation procedure." Not getting it that if I had done it right I wouldn't have to remove the part and do it again, and I already know how to remove it incorrectly based on my incorrect installation. Then putting all the pieces back in the box, and taking them to your mechanic, who tells you it is no big deal, give me 30 minutes. Until he takes a look at the parts, and asks "you tried to work on this yourself, didn't you?" The sum total of your frustration is you may have damaged things, you lost a day riding, were embarrassed by the mechanic laughing at your attempts, and be sure that this story will reach the ears of all your friends when they visit him, and your wallet is thinner-all because you tried to do it yourself. But the words you hated to hear most, were echoed by your wife, "did you read the instructions?" For sadly this wasn't your first attempt, and even sadder won't be you last. Which she will remind of next time. So how was your ride last Saturday?

Life can be cruel when you don't follow the instructions. Even crueler when you know how to do something, but don't. That is why God offers grace for salvation, because when put in the hands of men, we don't follow the instructions. We take short cuts, or end up making it worse, before we finally call on Jesus to help us out. Some of the ways we try are to memorize the scriptures-that'll do it. But knowing them and putting them into practice are two different things. More church can be like not reading the first step in the instructions if you show up late. You need to start at the beginning. Bible studies may increase your knowledge and provide fellowship, but can be a poor substitute for what God has for you. Don't even shop your problem around, you will find that opinions will be worse than facts. Simply put-without the spirit guiding you, you just won't get it. You may have knowledge, but sacrifice wisdom. You may know all the laws, but fail to see you can't keep them. And you might just end up with religion, and be bound to something you think is the truth.

God tells us that He writes His laws on our heart. Right there where they should be. Not memorized, or categorized, or filed away-but readily available, so available you don't need to call on them, for they provide the words that even come out of your mouth before you have a chance to think and screw them up. The main word God writes on your heart is love. And since He is love, you are an autographed copy of the book He wrote. It doesn't get much better than that.

Suddenly you remember things as opposed to memorizing them. You have insight from God as opposed to studying various other studies. You know where to go, and find yourself immersed in the gospel, simply by following God's instructions, conveniently written on your heart. Imagine a marriage ruled by laws instead of love. Do you need to memorize how much you love your spouse? Or what to do or not do to please her? That isn't love.

Only Jesus adds the much needed provision of forgiveness, when you do fail. Jesus doesn't remind of your faults, He has forgotten them. He just does the repair so you can get on with life. Which beats sitting in the garage on a nice day frustrated when you should be riding.

So stay in God's owners manual daily. Let Him transfer the contents to your heart. Go riding instead of trying to fix a self inflicted wound. Trust God! If He can save your soul from death and damnation, the rest ought to be easy, right? Seems I read that somewhere in the instructions. Let me see, they were just here. Yup, right where I put them, in the trash, er file. To be used later if needed.

We need Jesus now. Maybe it is time to dump the trash, and trust Him. Stay in the word. Let the author sign your heart with a personal notation just for you. And for the times you misplace what you need to know, He is there 24/7. No recording, no voice mail, and never being put on hold. No appointment necessary.

And enjoy the ride. Safe and secure that all the parts were installed correctly by the creator. Now, what do they mean by simple hand tools? Is a hammer a simple hand tool?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

it still is all about the ride

When I left New Jersey to move west in 1975 on my R90S, bike shops were much different. But so were the people who rode motorcycles. With the possible exception of Slegers-Forbes, owned by Malcolm Forbes, bike shops tended to be what we would refer to as mom and pop stores. Family owned, with pop handling service, mom working parts and helping dad with sales, and the kids learning the business from both. Where I lived, the Norton store was in an old house, that sold lawn mowers. Much like the Triumph store we visited seven years ago in Lynchburg, VA. Closed for lunch, when most of us would go there for the K81 Dunlops that they sold. I had to get off work early more than once to get a tire there. BMW was sold at East Coast Cycles-a bicycle shop, with them in the back, and the then new to them Yamaha brand behind them. What a change from the palaces they sell BMW's in today. Honda meant VIP, in a huge store, at least to us-an old supermarket. But they sold so many Hondas they needed the space. Take a look, Honda never referred to themselves as motorcycles. Suzuki was sold with Kawasaki, along with Triumph by Rick's, who soon was to move into a large store-still very small by today's standard. The only Harley store I remember was across from the train station in Plainfield, in a narrow store front that was only wide enough for bikes along the one side, and a path wide enough to walk between them and the long parts counter. It may have been called Pop's, with no name on the window we were never sure. BSA would be gone soon, and Norton in a year, leaving only Triumph to stumble on until John Bloor bought them and resurrected the brand. It was the start of the Japanese revolution, and if you wanted to ride, or at least get there reliably, they were your choice. The bikes were changing, the market was changing, dealers were to change, and so were the riders.

So it was that I didn't realize what a great motorcycle town Albuquerque was to be when I moved there. Bobby J's Yamaha, still in business today. Jake Alcon sold Harleys, once let my friend Brett ride a Sportster, and wondered if he was on drugs as he wheelied it off the lot. Now a mega store, and Jake is no more. Either is Brett, who died in a single bike accident. Honda did well, Kawasaki was becoming the bike of choice due to the Z, and had two dealers, and Motorsport with two stores sold BMW, Suzuki, and Triumph. Joe Turney was still selling Laverdas, but no longer Triumph and BSA. Lastly Henry and Ilsa Rissman sold Moto Guzzi, and were open on Sundays, but still closed on Mondays like all proper stores were. Again, you knew the people, and they knew you. Break a turn signal, they would take one off a new bike for you. Broken down, they had a truck to come get you. And when you were ready to buy, always were willing to make a deal with you. Throw in a free helmet or gloves. You were more than a customer, you rode. You were a fellow rider, and no matter what you rode, after all the harassment died off from riding a Yamguzikawahontri, you all shared the brotherhood of being a biker-the common denominator was motorcycles. It was all about the bikes.

Most of us were brand loyal, but still loved to visit other shops. We learned about the other brands, and shopped for shirts and accessories that our shop may not have. We were all under the common moniker of bikers, we just worshipped via different brands. Just like Christians who share Jesus as our common denominator, but attend different churches. Theresa and I are fortunate that we travel and get around to other churches. Meeting pastors, hearing the gospel from a different perspective, and making new friends. When in Torrance we visit Steve Mays, who always recognizes us and talks motorcycles-he is an old Harley mechanic. Pastor Rob at Calvary Chapel Ramona rides, and through him we were able to minister to Gavin and Lynsay. Skip Heitzig rides a Road King, but also has a CB750 cafe racer. And because we share Jesus as Christians, we are able to fellowship and minister with and to each other, sharing motorcycles. Maybe even changing the way ministry is done because we ride.

Pastors, if you don't have a Saturday night service, come on down and worship with us at Marantha. Get out and see what God is doing in other churches. Be blessed and be a blessing to others. Need prayer, let them pray with you. Be welcomed as a new friend. Jesus didn't stay within the walls of any church-He was out and about. Maybe a good example or a wake up call for you and your flock. Meet other Christians, and enjoy the fellowship. And like those of us who ride, we find we have more in common than we do different. For whether it is the gospel on two wheels, or the gospel of Jesus, you need to take it to the streets. Get out of your Jerusalem, and find your Judea or Samaria may be a 30 minute ride to visit another church. And find that the outer areas will call your name sooner than you think, with blessings abounding when you visit. How you get there is up to you. But you will never know until you get out of your rut and try.

No longer a Honkawsuzyam owner, but a motorcyclist. And no longer a Bappresluthcath, but a Christian. Share the common denominator that God has given you. Whether it be Jesus or riding, do both to His glory. It is still about the ride!

Kick stands up, let the blessings begin!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

mine started witha 350 Honda

I have noticed lately when I go to vintage bike meets that more of us older guys are huddled around the older, smaller 250cc sized bikes. With the common theme being these were our first bikes. The ones we learned to ride on, the ones that we first experienced they joy and freedom of riding on. The ones that took us to places we never knew existed, on roads we still ride today, and that started a love affair with motorcycles that 40-50 years later we still enjoy. Many bikes will have come and gone over those years, but there will never be ones like the first one you owned. It will be the one that all others are judged by, because it will have been your first love. And there is nothing more precious than your first love.

Mine was a new 1972 Honda CB350, bought so I could ride with my friend Bill on his CL77. Once I had ridden such a big bike with 305cc, I had the fever and only the 350 would cure it. No more puny 50 or 125cc dirt bikes-I was out of the dirt and onto the highway-cruising at 80 and flirting with 100mph when able to. Motorcycles from that day forward would surpass girls in importance, until I met my bride years later. I learned more in the six months I owned the 350 and the 6000 miles I put on it than at any previous time in my life. And being a senior in high school, I thought I knew it all, but that Honda would teach me things that no class room could offer, and no text book could explain. It was the entry fee to life, and life suddenly appeared the day I rode away from Ralph's Honda in South Orange on it. I experienced more firsts on my 350 than I would on any other bike to date. It was with mixed emotions I sold it for a 1972 BMW R60/5, but more roads and farther destinations were calling, and the BMW was to take me to them. Maybe not better, but farther. I can still remember the excitement of riding out of the dealer, and on being torn between wanting to show it off to all my friends, or to go riding-friends would have to wait, the road called. What good is a new bike if not ridden? Truly there would never be another bike to me like my first one-and the Honda has forever earned top recognition in my memory files of bikes owned.

I never could imagine anything taking the place of motorcycles in my life until Jesus came into it. I had a new first love, that made me love and enjoy motorcycles and riding even more. I had a new riding partner-Jesus, and He not only loved to ride, but He loved to ride with me. Now I was never alone. Where I had a lifestyle, now I had life to go with it. He put girls, jobs, and even motorcycles in perspective-and whereas at one time girls would accuse me of loving my motorcycle more than them-the bike had less maintenance and was more exciting, now I was glad when they told me Jesus was the most important thing in my life. He gave me a passion for Him, and displayed it in my life via two wheels, in a way only a loving God could. And still does today.

You never forget your first love. Maybe that is why when we get together we share our testimonies and how Jesus first came into our lives. How exciting it was to meet Jesus personally, and how we once hated church and all religion, He had made it personal, and now we enjoyed getting together with other believers and sharing what He has done and is doing in our lives. Sadly for some they have lost their first love-but you can come back, His arms are waiting to accept you again in love. But to those of us whom never left our first love, there are more memories, sweeter memories, and even better ones to come.

There were many better bikes I owned after the 350. They would go faster, stop better, and be more comfortable than it was. But they all would lack the first time experience factor my Honda had. Way beyond the spec sheet, or how fast the speedo said, or how many miles the odometer showed, your first bike is more personal than that. And when we gather together around them, I am amazed how a bunch of crusty old bikers can reminisce so fondly over something so old and so small. First loves will do that to you. In a way all the ones to follow didn't and won't. Maybe the difference between men and boys is no more than the amount of miles on their memory odometer.

Make Jesus your first love today. If you have you know what I mean. If not, start the precious memory file with Him in it today. He makes life worth the living by showing you things through His eyes. He makes you come alive, and see life that you never knew existed. And He takes you into eternal life someday-it doesn't have to ever end. Someday all we will have left is our memories, but those of us who have Jesus will still have it all.

In over 40 years of riding and over 700,000 miles, there has never been anything to compare with my first bike. And after 35 years saved, nothing will ever compare to Jesus.

Many loves will come and go-it is the first love that you will always remember. Sometimes it's ok to travel back to see how far we have really come. They only get me more excited about the future. Only with Jesus are the best times and rides yet to come. These are the good, old days.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

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