when a young man's fancy turns to...

It’s springtime! When a young man’s fancy turns to many things. But to those of us who ride, it means one thing. Winter is over and we ride again. Except for those of us in So Cal, or who steadfastly refuse to give in to cold, winter, snow and ice of winter. For us it means no more electric riding clothes, thick gloves, and three layers of riding clothes. But springtime it is, and even if the weather doesn’t match the calendar, we are ready and willing, but are we able? As I look out at the front yard, the grass has turned this suspicious green color, and is growing faster than I remember. In the back, where all winter it was brown, now it is alive, and the weed season has begun. Flowers are in bloom, and the bees are in them, as they begin their yearly pollen gathering and redistribution. It may still be cold at night, but warm enough under the covers, so the windows that were sealed shut for months now are open. Helping us to exercise self control over a midnight snack, or the urge to water the lemon tree in the middle of the night. With open windows it brings new sounds, or the awakening of new sounds, as we hear the cats fight in the night, the cruel howl of a coyote conquest, and the whistle of the freight trains. We forgot about the Harley the next block over-he rides all winter, and forgot how obnoxiously loud his pipes are as he warms it up for 20 minutes. Give in-by a fuel injected bike! We also get the first glimpse of allergies, as all the flowers, with a little help from the bees, are blooming, and smell so good, between sneezes. Spring is here-we made it through winter, and there is nothing you can do about it.

For most it means driving with the windows down, or turning on the AC and not the heater. Kids playing out after school, longer day light-who else besides me doesn’t love Daylight Savings? But to those of us who ride, it means we are able to ride again, or more. Some will go to the back of the garage, remove the covers, and push the starter button-and nothing will happen. Should’ve bought the battery tender on sale last winter. Finally it starts, and runs rough, maybe the gas is bad, but maybe I should have tuned it last year. So we call the shop, who fed us free donuts all winter. When they had no work. “We’re taking appointments for six weeks,” and your dream is shattered. Again, why didn’t I service it last winter? I told my wife that is why we needed a pickup, to carry the bike? So we haul it out, clean it up, and as the sounds of others riding, maybe more thoughtful than us, we resist the temptation, drain the gas, refill the tank, and off we go. But this thing wobbles, it didn’t do this when I parked it four months ago? Then in a flash of brilliance, you air up the tires, it suddenly runs better, smoother, and the huge smile on your face invites any bugs who may to try and wipe it from your face. It’s spring and your are riding! For in the spring the number one thing a man’s fancy turns to is riding!

Pulling up to the diner, you recognize the guys by motorcycle, not by sedan. And the lot is full. Time to catch up on lost winter dreams and rides, after an hour of bench racing, you’re off. Stopping by the shop, where all the new bikes are arriving, just in time for tax money that should be spent responsibly will be spent on necessity-a new motorcycle. One trip around the block, and your old ride, with bad tires, tired battery, and needing a tune up is like winning second place in a beauty contest. And promising the wife whatever it takes to appease her, you sign the papers, ride off, the envy of your friends whose wives don’t get it, and you won’t be seen for days. A small price for her to pay to get you out of the house, and out from under her feet so she can get things done at home. For summer is coming, and she wants to be at at the beach, so she prepares. Just like you should have been doing all winter, so you could ride. Maybe she does understand after all. But it is spring, and it means riding with buddies, taking rides you dreamt about all winter, and summer is coming, which means more of the same, just longer hours under better conditions. Life couldn’t be any better, the yard can wait...let’s ride!

And so the first festival of the riding season is complete, and the others await. God is into seasons too, and also festivals. And with Easter here next week, Passover has begun. What a great time for the Jewish people to look for the Messiah, who Christians believe is already here, and will return soon for us. And I think God knows why He put Passover in the spring. A time of rebirth, of beauty and fresh starts, what could be better than starting them with being forgiven. Giving glory to God, and thanking Him for Jesus, and feeling new and clean inside. Spiritually clean, your soul feels like the fresh air of spring, and you wonder, why didn’t I do this sooner. All winter has passed, and I could have been spending more time with God, and now it is spring, and it comes time to ride, what am I gonna do? May I suggest, first-pray. Thankfully and gratefully that God remembers even when you don’t. That Jesus isn’t seasonal, but the festivals God has created help keep us fresh in our relationship with Him. He remembers how much we forget, or get side tracked. And Passover means new life, and then Easter that we too will be resurrected upon death, just like Jesus did, after death. And as we wonder what to do first, after praying I suggest a ride. What better place than in the temple of your Arai alone with God than to thank Him. Enjoying both the creator and His creation with others, but also alone, as time spent with Jesus will always be time well spent. Being able to do it while riding just is an added bonus. And soon Pentecost will come and go, then a summer of great weather, great riding, and many new memories made-along with time spent with God. And then the Feast of Trumpets to celebrate the return of Jesus, and soon fall is upon us, and we promise to remember to do all the things to our new bike that we neglected on our old ones. And promise that we will keep in touch with God, it has truly been a great summer. But knowing we can get easily side tracked... another promise we intend to keep, but will break. Aren’t you glad grace isn’t dependent on you, but is all about Jesus?

For truly springtime is a time of rebirth, and a time to celebrate. And ride. Don’t wait all winter wondering what to do, turn to God now. He really isn’t seasonal, He is there in winter too. Just like the bike under the cover in the garage, He awaits you each day, and wishes you didn’t wait all winter to get back to Him. It’s OK to peek under the tarp, to sit on the bike and work the throttle, and make the noises. It’s also OK top spend time with God that way. And the more time spent with God, you notice winter is almost bearable, and spring takes on a newer and more refreshing outlook. Bikes may sit unridden and covered all winter. Don’t set God out for a season either. Enjoy winter for spring is coming. Enjoy spring for it is Easter time, and look forward to the return of Jesus. Any day now, it could be spring. Any day now He can return. What a better way to spend winter than waiting for Jesus. So get out and ride, with Jesus. Don’t make Him wait any longer. He has waited for you, what are you waiting for? For in the spring a young man’s fancy turns to riding. Don’t wait so long to return to Jesus.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

is there such a thing as an ugly motorcycle?

With each new generation, stylists, designers, engineers, and marketing groups try to impress us and tell us what is stylish and trendy. What looks so good now can make the old looks ancient, and that we just don’t see how we can ever make it without the newest arrival in our garage. So...many have come up with the lists of the worst or ugliest cars, so here goes, with motorcycles. First, let me say no bike is truly ugly, just some not as cool as others. Just looking at the timeless styling of a sixties Bonneville, and you will agree. Early Hondas of the same vintage look, well Japanese, and had to be reliable to overcome their looks. For the past 90 years Harley has reintroduced a vintage look, relying on bikes from 50-60 years ago as their basis. BMW’s have always had their own look, as has Moto Guzzi, and certain others. But here are some that no way could they even be parked in my garage, even under cover of dark.

Remember the first Suzuki Rotary of 1975? With the space ship styling, and instrument pod that was referred to as a lunch box? Blue or red, a no go, but the next year with regular instruments and black with gold stripes, it was handsome. Until you turned it ton-it whirred. Then burped when off throttle. Just to show that a great motor can be hidden behind an ugly face, remember the Rocket 3 from BSA with its space age exhaust-like a ray gun. RIP BSA, even the Jetson styled cycle couldn’t save you. You like big, Kawasaki made a 1300cc six cylinder touring bike in the eighties. Industrial looking, squared off tank, and BIG, no wonder it didn’t sell. Today they call then rare-bad taste is rewarded if you wait long enough.
Even Honda couldn’t keep the ugly out of the studio, or out of the showrooms with the Rune, a poorly executed custom in the 90’s. Saw one once, some non-bikers were laughing at it. Not even the name Honda could save this turd. Even Buell with all its interesting engineering somehow felt the need to wrap it in ugly, so as to give it a reason not to sell. The Buell lightning, why so people learned to Just Say No to riding even before quitting drugs. Maybe the saddest thing is someone or some design team was paid to design them, only one step behind the idiots who signed off on them. But not all manufacturers fall prey to ugly, we also have the chopper crowd. Way over priced, except when it comes time to trade or sell, beauty must be in the eye of the beholder, who sees green before beauty. Antlers on handlebars, OK for Dick’s Harley, maybe blame him for the craze, but on a Christmas chopper? Really, who asked Santa for this one? And bikes shaped like women, or lizards, or just plain ugly-I thought chopped meant chopped, as in parts taken off, not ugly added? Café racers are now the current fad, and they can get ugly too. But when holding on at over a 100mph, they don’t seem to care. Even Harley did one years ago, and it had promise, but the Bar and Shield loyal preferred chrome to power-still do. They can’t say no to chrome, while others can’t say no to horsepower. Just some late entries, the Suzuki B King that Ray has hot rodded, unless you feel 167 hp at the rear wheel isn’t enough for a 70 year old kid? So maybe beauty is in the eye of the beholder, until yesterday. There it was in white, where there should be black. Painted for a Progressive Insurance commercial, Flo, this white Rocket 3 was made for the commercial, and then to be crushed. Maybe to protect its integrity, but some Youtuber will add it, and the legend will live on. In a world of Honda red, Yamaha yellow, Kawasaki white, and Suzuki yellow-do we really need a white bike? We dubbed it the Good Humor bike, well at least it was good humor. We all have our tastes, good and bad, and have an affinity for what we think makes us look good. At least to us...

I heard a Pentacostal preacher one time joke about himself and other religious types. He told how he would spend hours in front of the mirror, spraying his hair, then polishing his patent leather shoes, then putting on his double knit suit. While his wife, taught to be modest, wore her skirt to her ankles, drab colors, low shoes, and not a hit of style anywhere. Keep your hair in a bun honey, then styling don’t matter. And he was funny, and right. But we all get prejudiced views on religion, nothing new. Then along came Jesus, who although we have no photos of him, years before digital, many in Hollywood and artists claim to know how He should have looked. Long hair or crew cut? Remember the famous non-quote, “let them wear there hair as long as they want.” Jesus wasn’t stylish, but somehow appealed to all. Something about Him that made Him different. So just like we have many trying to show how great a Christian they are by the xlever sayings on their shirts, Jesus wore the clothes of the day. Not trying to bring attention to Himself, His actions and attitudes would do that. And then He always pointed them to God, His Father. Which we all do, right? I mean, it really is all about Jesus isn’t it? Your shirt says so, is it true? Or are we just a great product, the signs say “God don’t make no junk,” just wrapped in a bad package? What do people see when they see us? Jesus, who they are drawn to, or us and our religious attitudes, and turn away? If clothes make the man, what did they make Jesus? As He was naked on the cross?

Who do you see when you see Jesus? Someday in heaven we shall see Him face to face, and instantly recognize Him. And Him us. For looks will not matter then, but like scripture tells us, “things seen are temporal, things not seen are eternal.” Why worry about what you wear in heaven, isn’t it more important to get there first? Ugly, beautiful, plain or fancy-we will all have one common denominator in heaven-Jesus. That is all that matters then, and should now. Take an example from what an old BMW rider once told me, about the jugs sticking out in the wind of his engine. “The view from over the handlebars is all I see. And it gets better as the roads go on.” I like that, the view from behind the handlebars. Maybe we do see things different from their than we are seen while passing by riding on it. What do people see when you go past? What do you see as you look ahead? Jesus loves you as you are, that work in progress. This years model, right now. Maybe the old rider was right-the best view is what’s ahead, on what you are riding right now. Look ahead to Jesus, so many roads and so many bikes. Let’s ride. A twist of the throttle will tell you more about performance than looks. Just ask Jesus.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthewbiker.blogspot.com

grace and the cola wars

Ken Cook and I met when we worked for Coca Cola together 30 years ago. He was hired to straighten out the service department, and took them from over tow days to two hours for service call response. So they asked him to do the same for sales, where I had made my mark, and we became a mutual admiration and respect team. We both knew how to get things done, and while many offered excuses, we delighted in our victories. We would and could be creative in our approach to doing business, which left many shaking their heads and wondering how, or even why. We just went onto the next challenge. So when the company moved into the coffee market, and full line vending, they targeted us to go after key accounts that were the competition, aka Pepsi. And one was the Fairfield Resort in Pagosa Springs, a huge full service resort in Colorado. I had been stopping in for months, and gotten to know Pam, who was in charge of growing their business, and she thought like Ken and I. So when we forced Pepsi’s hand to make a bid, she was in charge of the bid process. So arranging a meeting where she, Ken, and I could meet, I arrived early and was visiting with her when Ken arrived. She shook hands with him at her desk, and he and I both noticed something, and we could hardly contain ourselves. Right on top, in full view, was the Pepsi proposal! But how to get the info with her there? Quickly I asked her if I could see the room next door she had been telling me about, while Ken would use the men’s room. So as I led her next door, it left Ken alone at her desk, and he copied all the info, we met and he was gone. Laughing all the way home at what we had done, our quick thinking, as it would turn out, would land us this key account. And the legend continued...Grace in the form of opportunity.

At Christmas time, Evan Wickham has gotten some of his fellow Christian recording artist friends together for a Christmas Together Concert. Which filled the 3000 person sanctuary, and overflowed-mention Phil or Evan and the place fills with young people, and add Pawn Shop Kings, Molly Jensen, Jadon Lavik, Tyrone Wells, and Tim Timmons, the night was magical. Just watching Dick rock out that night was a gas. But with each artist, a testimony was shared, and Tim Timmons touched my heart, no pun intended. He has had cancer for over nine years now, and should be dead. But lives a pain free life, continuing to praise god despite the cancer, and being a living testimony to God’s grace. A true miracle even the doctor’s and oncologists can’t explain, but he can in one word-grace. So when he shared that night, I had to meet him, for I am a miracle also, God’s grace providing me with a testimony no one else shares, and being the only one in medical history with it. Like others who have seen grace first hand, we know we cannot explain it fully, it must only be experienced, and only with the presence of God, and the healing arms of Jesus. So as I stood inline to meet him, average age 3-4 decades less than me wanting to see him, I must have stood out. And ours eyes met, and as we shook hands I told him I cannot get his pain, it is that personal, and can be a lonely thing. And how I cannot explain His grace, for I too should be dead. And then I shared my story, my testimony, and we stood there with ours hands clutched from our outstretched arms. I shared with him the following-how God had shown my family grace via me. I would have been thankful to die 9 months ago, but God kept me here so my wife would not be a widow, and my children would still have a father here for them. I would get to see the successes they have accomplished, and will accomplish-more testimonies. But more important they would see me being blessed by that, and for that I am glad god ahs spared me to this time. And as I shared, Tim’s face lit up, a huge smile, turned to laughter, and he began shouting, “I get it! You get it!” Bouncing for joy, as someone finally gets it to, and we both had someone to rejoice with. WE had been there! And for a few seconds we both hugged, loved, and gave glory for God’s grace, or our families. In both our trials, we saw Jesus despite the circumstances, and our families were blessed by our still being here. But someday soon, I know we will soon be in heaven, but it will be in God’s time, not based on medical symptoms, burst aortas, or cancer. A few precious moments with a stranger I had never met brought tears of joy to our eyes, Merry Christmas Tim!

I still can’t explain grace, it still must be experienced. Don’t get hung up on teachings, or studies on it. It isn’t what you know but who you know. And Tim’s family and mine know Jesus, maybe just a little different than others. We have seen the grace, yet don’t try to explain it. We just enjoy it, with a grateful heart, again no pun intended. Like the answer to all prayers, it is all about Jesus.

Ken and I would go on to further victories, and both leave Coke for better positions. But perhaps the greatest compliment came from Pepsi, for after I left Coke, they threw a party for me. They just didn’t choose to invite me. Tim and I urge you to accept the invitation to God’s grace today. A party you will never forget. A grace you must experience yourself. And like his newest album , Cast Your Cares, we both have, and will. I hope you do too. If Jesus can save us, just think what He can do for you. Any questions...let’s pray.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

timmonsmusic.com

it's not rocket science you know

New Mexico is a wonderful blend of cultures both old and new. On one hand you have the Anasazi, or the ancient ones, whose cliff dwellings go back thousands of years, and right down the road you have Sandia Labs where the A bomb was invented. Cave men and rocket scientists all sharing the same state, no wonder it is called the Land of Enchantment. It is where when selling motorcycles years ago, I tried to explain to a man that you didn’t have to change the oil on a two-stroke with CCI injection, you just kept adding it. As I explained it was very simple, not rocket science, he looked at me puzzled, and said “I am a rocket scientist.” And with foot in mouth I changed the subject. So when selling cars with Chambless years later, it didn’t surprise me to see a group of them looking for him. He had just sold a Concord to one, and he was coming in to sign some papers. And while he was, his six friends were cruising the showroom. Easy to spot by their white shirts, crew cuts and black rimmed glasses, and showing more white sock between pants cuff and oxford than today’s baseball players. With their pocket protectors filled with pencils, pens, and even the standard issue laser pointer, these men were ready for anything. Or so they thought. Somehow mystified by a dark maroon Concord four door, they were gathering around it, one who actually kicked the tires, another mystified by how an antenna could distinguish between AM and FM signals and send them to the right place, and one even bouncing up and down while behind the wheel. These were the grandfathers of the kids in the show “Big Bang Theory,” and these guys may actually be working on a big theory that would bang. And as Chambless approached them, they all introduced themselves as friends of his latest sales conquest. And it was show time...

As he shook hands with all of them, they were excited about this four door sedan, and how its dark paint would hold up in the harsh sun in the southwest. “American Motors has special paint on their cars just for that reason,” Chambless began. “And after each car is painted, they shoot it with electricity so the paint molecules line up, forming a bond against the rays from the sun. They are the only ones who have it. On some colors they are hard to see, but sometimes on darker colors like this you can see the molecules lined up.” And as he bent over the roof, looking for this imaginary line up of paint molecules, he waved to one of them, “look, here you can see them,” and pointed across the roof. At first he couldn’t, and being urged to look harder, exclaimed, “yeah I see them. Wow they really do line up!” And soon all six of these rocket scientists were proclaiming they saw the paint molecules lining up! WOW! Nodding, pointing, and squinting with one eye, they had seen what doesn’t exist to the naked eye, the had seen the invisible. What a leap of faith! Wait until they got back to the labs and told their friends. This really was rocket science. Wonder how it would work on a space shuttle? Had they stumbled onto some top secret coating?

And as we all dove for cover so as to not explode laughing at these men, I am reminded that there is a fine line between idiot and genius. And sometimes you can be on both sides of the fence, and not know it. Ernesto and I were discussing last night how so many seek Biblical knowledge, hoping that as they got smarter, they would find more favor with God. But how good teaching stresses the application in our lives, and as we get closer to God, He becomes more of our daily walk with Him. Not smart or cultured like the Pharisees were, or educated with a DD, Doctor of Divinity after their title of Most Reverent High Servant Minister of a Humble God, but simple like the child that Jesus asks us to come to Him as. Humble in that we turn it all over to Him, and childlike that we sit at His feet taking in every word, and marveling at Him. For the gospel is simple, and meant to be, so that anyone can get it. And it is not so much a matter of intelligence, although why would anyone wish to go to hell, but a matter of the heart, where soon the mind will catch up as you grow in grace. Titles mean nothing to God, Jesus was more impressed with being called friend, and calling you the same. Degrees, IQ’s, social prominence, and financial status had no impact on getting into heaven. It was all about Him, and us being born again. The only way to be saved. And we remarked how even the stupidest Christian who has chosen Jesus is much smarter than the smartest, most intelligent one who rejects Him. So smart, as the rocket scientists, yet so stupid. Having more faith to believe a lie than to trust the facts, and trust God. And it continues on today...

So maybe the smart ones do go to heaven. It is smart to choose Jesus over anything else. So easy to do that even a caveman could do it, or even a rocket scientist. But it is simple, so I ask, have you accepted Jesus as your Lord and Savior? Do you believe He is God and died for your sins? Believe with your heart, confess with your mouth, and you are saved. No Big Bang Theory, no religious mantra or rules to follow. And much easier to find than paint molecules lining up on the roof of a car. That don’t exist. That’s blind faith.

Real faith used wisely produces many great things. Use it and turn to Jesus today. Watch as your life begins to line up with the Word, and you grow in grace. Watch as you discover things via the spirit that even the most intelligent mind cannot decipher. Watch as a joy overcomes you, and soon the blessings multiply. Faith, it only takes a little. Trust Jesus today, much easier than trying to see paint molecules line up. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that. Maybe God is right, it isn’t seeing that is believing, but believing that is seeing. And yes, I just had to look after they left. You know under the right light, they appear to line up...gotcha ya! Smart people don’t go to heaven, saved ones do. Be smart and saved, trust Jesus today.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthe25bike.blogspot.com

close to the edge

Billy Joel once had a close friend, who decided to move to the West Coast, after selling his house and giving up on the American Way. Ending up in LA. Might make a great song. But how many of us still live where we were born? I was born in Texas, but have lived in Jersey, Pennsylvania, Florida, New Mexico twice, with Colorado in between, and now in California. Sounds like another song. But after 25 years and living in So Cal most of my life, I feel like a native here. But can get along fine in Jersey, you got a problem with that? I also feel like I am home when I travel to Texas, although leaving there at only a few months old. And I feel very comfortable in New Mexico-at home in Albuquerque. Go figure. All this from a family that has the same address for over 54 years, and at one time they were the rebels, leaving a small town in Pennsylvania for New Jersey, some 60 miles away. My aunt never having anything but a Pen Argyl address, now living in a rest home an hour away. Finally my sister who never got off Algonquin Drive, it was like moving her bedroom across the street, she never left home. And when I left home at age 21 for the west, on my motorcycle, they considered me the rebel. So unlike Billy J.’s reference to giving up the American way, I am living it. And to each of us, there is no place like home.

Which I have passed on to my sons, one in LA, and the other moving only 30 miles north, but out of Escondido. Making their own lives, the way it should be, and going after and living their dreams. Take a young Chris Columbus. Nice Italian boy who when financed with Spanish pesos, set out to find an Eastern route to the Far East. And discovering Ohio, just a joke. But who was haunted by the fact that others who believed he would get to the edge of the world and fall off. He didn’t, later it was proved the world was round, but in his mind maybe he always wondered how close to the edge he was. Or if there was an eastern edge. And it is hard to find a true Native American, who used to be called Indians, started by the same Chris C. who thought he had landed in India, appropriately naming them Indians. And now we have Indians in Cleveland, Redskins in Washington, and Giants in New York. Raiders in Oakland, and Dodgers in LA. Who came from Brooklyn, where my mother’s family is from, where my Nana was orphaned at a young age when her mother was hit by a trolley car. Before baseball came to Brooklyn, and they were called Dodgers, for dodging streetcars. I wonder if Nana was ever a Dodger fan?

Some time ago, a young couple, Joe and Mary, were living in Nazareth, but were from Bethlehem. In Israel, not Pennsylvania. When the law commanded them to be part of the census, they made the trip to Bethlehem, where they had a son while visiting. They named Him Jesus, who although born in Bethlehem, was raised in Nazareth, and was referred to as the Nazarene. But also as the Man from Galilee. Who never had a permanent address, even never owned land as far as we know. But moved about the Holy Land His entire life, the last three in ministry. And then who told is followers to take His message from Jerusalem, to Judea, and then all the world. Which they did, setting up churches wherever they went. And whose descendants still do today, proclaiming the Good News of Jesus Christ, the gospel. And as believers, and followers, we know we have an eternal home I heaven, which we long for. So we come from a long line of those who set out to find the edge as Columbus did. To find the other way, a better way, and finally it is found in Jesus Christ. Not all roads lead to heaven, although they all lead somewhere. And the ride may be pretty, and exciting. It may even offer rewards along the way, but there is only one way to heaven, only one way home. And that is with Jesus. We may change addresses throughout our life, but it is where our heart is that we end up. And it is our choice.

So maybe the American Way, and the way in every country is finding Jesus. Taking different routes to get to Him, but finding He is the only way home. Which is why there are so many roads, yet not all lead to Him. Consider this from a man who was the Nazarene born in Bethlehem. Who hung out in Galilee. Who travelled most of His life, yet never forgot where home is. And invites us into His home today, just as He has for over 2000 years. Will you accept the invitation? Will you make the trip? With Him? Or are you still searching? Maybe a stranger in a strange land, who never left home, but never felt at home. Be like Billy’s friend, and be willing to give it all up. But give it up for Jesus. There is nothing wrong with the American way, even Superman endorsed it. But try it Jesus’ way, a better way, a heavenly way. You may be closer to the edge than you think. And now is no time to fall off.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

let's not make a deal

The Rolling Stones once sang “you can’t always get what you want,” and it may be hard to find anyone who disagrees with that rock lyric. But can you always get what you asked for? Different question, different attitude. But as we watch a young Michael Jagger wiggling around on stage, think about what you ask for, because you just may get it. But you may not get what you mean. I was selling cars for Key AMC Jeep, with a friend named Chambless. He was a character, and a very good friend. Think of the most interesting character you know, Chambless tops them. In fact it wasn’t even his real last name, he changed it because he liked the sound of it, and partially to hide from his past. For instance, one afternoon we walked into a credit bureau, and he asked to see his report. Then had the girl update it, making him the highest credit rating they had seen, just on his word. Right in front of us. She even participated, showing him what not to report, as he continued to make it all up! And this creativity continued on into his car selling career. The few months I was there, he was the top salesman, with one sale that the dealership will never forget. It earned them the highest profit gross profit in the dealership’s history. As follows-

Saturdays were always the busiest day, and they even bought lunch for all of us. Chambless was in rare form that morning, when an older man came in, in his fifties. Remember this was 35 years ago. We were all much younger then. He had a clean F150 with a camper shell to trade in on an economy car. Remember gas was expensive at 65 cents/gallon back then. He wanted $2600 for his truck, someone had told him that was the Blue Book value, and $300 cash back in the deal. So Chambless took him to the back row, where all the lesser cards were kept, including the only economy car on the lot, an old Mazda. Even too old for Bruce’s lot, who made a living selling cheap cars at $300 profit per car, and averaged 30 cars a month, selling these “pots” as he referred to them. A character, and just the guy Chambless could depend on, as he too was a character. He had lost an ear in an accident, and they had saved it by sewing it into his stomach, for reattachment later. He would pull his hair back to show you where the ear should be, then lift his shirt, showing you the scar where it was. Big belly and all. But he sold cars, and many came to the ear in the belly man.

So as Chambless demoed the car for the customer, he agreed to the old man’s wishes. A car that should have sold for $300 was sold for $2900! Giving the man $2600 for his truck, and giving him a check for $299, best he could do. And the man drove off happy, until he came back a few hours later. And we all scattered, as the man had brought a friend, and was furious. “You ripped me off!” he accused Chambless, and began to threaten him, never a good thing for an ex-Vegas bouncer. He let the man vent, then calmly went over the deal with him. “Didn’t you want a car that got better mileage than your truck?” “Yes.” “And didn’t you tell me you wouldn’t take less than $2600 for your truck?” “Yes.” “And didn’t I get you a check for almost $300 as you wanted, here I’ll even give you the dollar out of my own pocket.” “Yes,” he agreed, as he waved off the dollar offer. “Then what is your problem, you got everything you wanted?” And faced with the truth, per Chambless, had to agree, shook his hand, and left. And we all came out from hiding. Courage and patience under fire, proving what you ask for may not always be what you mean. And in this case, the man “tried sometime, you’ll get what you need.” Apologies to Michael Jagger.

I watch as many young, and sadly some older Christians think God is a sugar daddy, not the candy. “Ask anything you want, and God will give it to you” they misquote the scripture. And when denied, they blame God, curse Jesus, and tell everyone who will listen, and many who don’t care to, that religion doesn’t work. And they would be right-religion doesn’t! But the will of God does, something they forgot when misquoting the verse. We are to agree with God, not have Him agree with us. Don’t rub the lamp expecting a genie to arrive, open your heart and let Jesus in. Let Him be God, and become more like Him, not bring Him down to our level. Scripture has much to say about asking, from wrong motives to lack of faith, but Jesus never wavers. He always does what is best for us, it is called grace. He is both a deal maker, salvation, and deal breaker-sin. And it even works when buying used cars! If only the man had asked God, and not leaned on his own understanding. Of course, we would never make that mistake...

I listened to Roy Rogers and Dale Evans sing about “trusting God today, and not worrying about tomorrow. Just like the Bible says,” and it is true. We so often worry about tomorrow without considering the events of today and considering their impact on tomorrow. We may not always be in the market for a used car, but we can always fall prey to our pride. So PRAY instead of being PREY. Ask God, then listen for His answer. It may amaze you, but will always bless you. It is called grace, and is free. Unlike many life lessons that cost us dearly, and not always money.

So you can always get what you want in Jesus. Just ask, and He’ll answer. Not your selfish desires, but what is best for you. He will guide you beside still waters, and give you peace in the storm. An umbrella when it rains, and cool water when it is hot. Forgoing things and giving us Himself. Not a bad deal, heaven included. And remember that no is still an answer. I hear it a lot, and have come to realize each no brings us closer to a better yes. All we have to do is trust and obey. And not ask foolishly, and show some respect to God when we ask. Think about it, would you really want to worship and respect a God who you could control? When so much of the day we are out of control? Aren’t you glad God isn’t?

Jesus Christ will always be the best deal. If we pay too much, He makes up the difference. If we get taken, He is there to console us. But if we ask anything in His name, He will honor it, according to His riches and glory. Many good deals are found in the back row of used car lots. Better to listen to the offer first, than go in waving cash to spend. Listen to God, then answer. Ask, then listen. And when He repeats back the deal for you, it is the best one for you. Not the other way around. Praise God from whom ALL blessing flow. And if a man with one ear, or named Chambless introduces themselves to you, say you are just looking. And look elsewhere. Getting what you need. Or to quote Aretha, “what you want, baby I got it...” Not just another used car story from the Twilight Zone.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

the cars we remember

What will the kids of today remember when they attend an old car show in 10-15 years? Will they get all excited about an Explorer their Mom used to take them to soccer practice in? Will they remember the mini-van that carried them all on that fateful summer vacation with fond memories? Will they get attracted to the older neighbor’s sedan, thinking someday I’ll own one just like it? Or do they look forward to driving a hybrid just like their peers will by then? And will they gaze at any gas powered car and remember the good old days? My parents drove on like that. Makes us take some time to ponder and think, about when we were their age, and our automotive expectations. And also how memories get skewed as the years pass.

I am blessed to attend many old car shows, and it always seems the crowd is gathered around the Tri-five Chevies, natural enough. A GTO Judge, 442, Boss Mustang, or Chevy Impala SS all get equal time when viewed. But of late I find myself more attracted to the station wagons and the four door sedans. For that is where my true memories lie. Sure I had friends or knew of guys who owned cool cars, Tom Jackson, Scottie’s brother Doug’s best friend and his 1962 Corvette, Richard with his 442, Glenn with his GTO, Roger with his Olds Cutlass, and Mr. Brannon with his Mach 1. I was familiar with them and even recognized them by the sound they made coming up the street. Enough to make me stop and run to the window, or pause for 5 minutes while cutting the yard. Dreaming that someday that would be me, and my car. My first ride with Lucio at 120 in his Trans Am. Barry’s fast AMX. Jay J. in his 69 SS 396. All cool, and all within reach of my dreams. But they only occupy a small part of the memory bank, as they were other people’s cars, not mine. So the memory input is limited, with a lot of film left on the roll to develop. So now as I remember old times, and old cars, I look at the sedans, station wagons, and more Ramblers than Fords. For that is where my time was spent, and so more memory photos were taken there. I remember taking my driving test in my mother’s 1966 Rambler Classic. What a humbling experience, but hey I’m driving, and the newly installed 8-track would drown out any insults I would get while driving by. The Pinto that took seven of us to the shore, in the rain coming back. 90 degrees, 100 humidity, and 100% vinyl interior. With the windows up and no air. Bet you never heard the Beach Boys sing about that. Even though it was a deuce coupe, well at least it had two doors. I remember sitting on the tail gate of my Dad’s 1962 Rambler American station wagon passing out our baseball uniforms. Rides in my Grandma’s old 1960 Rambler, then her 62. My Grandpa breaking the mold with his 1959 Buick Electra with the red leather interior. And my Nana with her 1967 Buick Skylark-even had a rear speaker. How cool was that on the way to the DDB for ice cream? And so most of my memories are more normal and unromantic than we care to remember.

But then along came motorcycles, and no one in my family rode, although at 80 years old my Grandpa wanted to learn, only deterred by my Grandma. But the cars we seem to ogle at the shows, and the memories reproduced of are our dreams and visions. And so it is perfectly normal for the next generation to like an SUV-the recent generation’s station wagon, or a mini-van-which I refuse to buy, and avoid any chance I get to ride in one. Pure function, no form. Oh and it has four wheels. And so I spend time in the back row at car shows, seeing things today as I did 40 years ago, my memory intact, just a little jaded by desires never fulfilled. And today still priced out of my reach.

Within any circle of friends there are leaders and followers. Some who just hang on, or get by on other people’s dreams and accomplishments. Sadly I meet from time to time those who brag about God, but on other people’s testimony. They have none of their own, or think the don’t, and are so absorbed in others they live with God through them. Because they never led a crusade like Billy Graham, or sang on stage, or even shared Jesus with anyone, they feel inferior. They are the station wagon whose only purpose was purposeful, but never got the blessing. While the fancy teacher got all the attention. But God wants it personal, and doesn’t regard one as better, or more important than the other. He is nor respecter of persons, titles, positions, or wealth. Who you know will not impress Him, He loves you the way you are. The rest is left up to us. Who do we want God to be in our life? To some He is just there on Sundays, and a memory of Easter, Christmas, and maybe a Thanksgiving visit to church. Grumbling all the time about how they don’t need church, it is filled with hypocrites. Just like them. But some choose all of God, and pray daily. They attend Wednesday night to be refreshed, and even a Bible study. They desire fellowship with other believers, and they are known by others as people who love God. They have the title Christian. They may be a four door sedan, but their life is as exciting as any red 442 convertible, top down on a sunny day. They burn rubber in their spiritual life, not on the street. And many testimonies they share are of one on one miracles, that we can never get enough of hearing of. A daily grind of Jesus, not just a quick trip around the block. A roll of film full of memories, with more awaiting.

It may be the muscle cars of our youth, the unobtainable that gather the attention and high prices today, but it is the day to day memories of life we treasure most of all. Even more precious when Jesus is in them. If your life seems dull, ask God to add some life to it. Roll down the windows, and stick your head out the window, and find out why dogs like it, no matter how far or how fast. The same air felt with the top down-well, not quite the same. But you get the idea, life is what you choose it to be. So choose it with Jesus. Every day a ride with the top down, and like BH’s 1967 Cadillac, at 60 mph with the top down you never feel the rain. Step out of the mini-van and dare to be a hot rod. Better yet, ditch four wheels for two, because no matter what you are driving, it will never be a motorcycle. And any other experience that isn’t your testimony to tell will never be as fulfilling as one on one with Jesus. Today is the day we make memories that we will remember tomorrow, and cherish and share with others. Fast only lasts a few seconds, but the real action is like in the back seat, the cars in the back row. Just don’t let your memories die there. Not every car is memorable, but the times spent in them, like time spent with God is memorable. It’s that personal. Make a testimony today. Remember, it’s your testimony, not mine.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com