riding alone, but never lonely

This is one of those stories that requires telling another story first, just so the real story makes sense. So hang on as I thank you for your indulgence. At age 21, I had goals, but only one dream. I wanted to ride my motorcycle across country to California from New Jersey. A dream of many, I was ready to do it, when tragedy struck. The Wildman was over, and sitting on my R90S, when he pushed the starter button, and it made a horrible noise. Then nothing. As it turned out later to be, the bolts had sheared off the flywheel on the German’s finest road bike, leaving me without a motorcycle, and crushing my dream. But I had also bought a custom Chevy van from Garry Brown, it was his final exam for his electrical engineering degree from Bucknell. It had two stereos, two layers of shag carpet, rosewood paneling, and Lake pipes. Yes, they roared. And it sat on the biggest Wide Oval radials, LR-78x15, mounted on American racing mag wheels. Cool all the way, it had twice as many wheels, and would have to do. But tragedy almost struck again, as a few days before I was to leave, Road Aid Frank, our friend and mechanic, found an engine knock. And told me the engine was no good, cancel the trip. Determined, aka stupid though I took off, noise and all, for four weeks to find America, just not on two wheels. And alone, as BH took off on his CB750 a few hours earlier, although we would later connect in San Francisco. I was about to test all of the knowledge my parents and Scotch Plains Public Schools had given me...I was of to realize my dream.

It has been said that “man plans, and God laughs,” and what we call detours or plan B are really His plan. Which in my pre-Christ state I didn’t know, but looking back God is always with us, even when not with Him. I had made it all the way to Pennsylvania, less than 100 miles that first afternoon, when the van died. It had done it before, the Judson Supercharger, an ignition booster got hot, and would restart when it cooled off, the next morning, so my first night out was spent along I-80 on the shoulder. But it restarted when cool the next morning, so I got off, in the middle of nowhere, to remove it. Now I can’t tell you if they were Hillbillies, but they were rednecked, and gave this long hair a hard time as I did the repairs. As they sat 10 feet from me, spitting tobacco at my feet, and commenting “ain’t she cute,” I kept a breaker bar in my back pocket-just in case. But with repairs completed, I was on my way with no further problems, or engine noises.

My plan was to follow the route my Dad had taken with the Boy Scouts to Philmont Ranch in 1967, but cutting off in Denver for the Golden State. So going past the Indianapolis Speedway, through Chicago, across beautiful Wisconsin, I travelled the interstates as much as possible. Even spent the night in front of a combination gas station/bowling alley, one bay for each, off I-90 in Minnesota. The beauty of Mount Rushmore, seeing Wall Drug, and the car museum in Murdo made me appreciate South Dakota, and even a thunderstorm in Wyoming didn’t faze me, I was going to California. But at a rest stop outside of Denver, I met a man, Jessie O’Leary, on a BMW, and we got high in my van together. He was riding my dream, and going to teach on an Indian reservation in New Mexico, shades of Billy Jack. We parted, stoned, and not knowing that we would meet the next summer in Albuquerque, I was selling motorcycles, and he was in for service. And shocked when I refused to get high, and listened intently as I shared my new life in Jesus with him. Again, God laughs, with us this time.

After making it over the Rockies on old Highway 6, I-70 was still a dream in many places, and wondering if the van would make it, Jersey boys don’t know about altitude and its effects, I made it to Green River,Utah, where I met another man, trying to live his dream. He was sitting among the trees in this old style rest stop, and had been hitchhiking to California from Virginia. The night before I met him, he had been beaten and robbed, I found him bruised, bloodied, and hungry. Feeding him all the food I had, peanut butter, and chips, and Coors, he told me his name was Howard Stephenson, but took the road name of Mac. And when I heard of his dream of California, I offered him a ride, for free, since he had no way to pay for the trip. But he had an aunt in Las Vegas, which was on the way, and if we could stop, she would help him out. His Aunt June, as it turned out was part owner of the Golden Nugget, and was glad to see her nephew, he had run away and the family had lost all communication with him. She fed us, gave me a stack of chips, which I quickly turned into defeat, and with some cash in hand, we set out across the desert in the middle of the night for LA. For the few hours I was in Vegas, it was as raunchy as I was, from the sex, the bars, and the debauchery. Even as much of a low life as I was, this place was even lower. And I was glad to leave.

The next morning found us in rush hour traffic on the 10 going into Santa Monica. I was going to spend two weeks with Brennan, a friend since 5, who still tells how I hit him over the head with a mayonaise jar when he was 5. What was my mother thinking letting me loose with a mayo jar in tow? Today I can see the headlines, maybe that is why they are plastic today. Arriving, Mac called his dad, an Air Force Colonel, who agreed to send him $400 to Brennan’s address, addressed to me, in care of his son-and he didn’t know any of us, including his son it seems. But the check arrived, Mac split, and I was in LA. With only the warning from Brennan that his room mate was a Christian and would talk about Jesus. But that would have to wait. All the visions about beaches, girls, bikinis, hot rods, and summer instilled in me by the Beach Boys was tomorrow’s agenda. I was 21, thought I knew it all, was about to live my dream, and nothing or no one was going to change that. Again man plans, and God laughs. For the next day my whole life would change...I thought I had been riding alone, but I was never lonely.

to be continued.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

many are called, few are riders

I have been riding motorcycles on the street legally now for over 42 years, no need interrupting my reputation by discussion of pre-license escapades. And being a first generation rider in my family, my parents hated them, they drove Ramblers, I have passed this love for riding onto both my sons and my wife, along with countless others who today enjoy the freedom of the wind in their face because they took a chance and now ride. But not everyone should ride, an opinion I didn’t share until yesterday. I still think in a perfect world we all should ride, but have come to realize some shouldn’t. Not because they aren’t cool, which they are not, but because just their appearance on a motorcycle can be a threat to the freedom we enjoy. One guy still only drives 55 on the freeways, thinking he is sending out a positive message about God, while another strictly sees it as cheap transportation. Both making a statement about riding without even having ridden. And it seems I follow after these types, who after their wives say “NO” to their wanting to ride, become hen pecked about all things in regards to personal decisions. Now I consider my wife in most decisions, she tends to be smarter than me, but I have freedom in her, and with her, something these other men don’t. Let’s hear a condescending “Yes, dear,” from those of you who know the type, or are the type. One look in your garage will tell us what type of man you are.

Today I see many types associated with riding motorcycles. The first got a taste early, and quit after trying it, bowing to social or family pressures, like above. Another rides for a while despite the negative press from the same, but caves in to it when they have a family, “you shouldn’t ride when you are raising children,” taking them away from a #1 family activity and leaving them open to the temptation of drugs. No better high than riding. Finding that riding was less dangerous, and cheaper than the costs involved with letting them hang out after school or weekends and not riding. If you don’t let your kids try riding, someone else will offer them something more dangerous. Also today many who have left riding are coming back to it, and enjoying it more, “why did I ever leave it?” being heard. Yet some of us heard the call, and gave into it. Despite the warnings, we ride, and enjoy life. We travel, meet friends, and even evangelize others to join in, and we do it within and without our families. I am blessed to do it with both. So be careful ladies, next time you condemn riding, especially women who do, my wife and her friends may be the ones in the leather jacket next to you. We apologize now for the chance to let you express your freedom of driving an SUV, cell phone in hands, with your kids glued to the DVD screens. And you’re telling us motorcycles are dangerous?

In the parable of the seed, Jesus tells of seed scattered, and the ground it fell on. The seed being the gospel, some hit hard ground, and was rejected, sometimes without even considering Him. “Him, Joe’s kid, a savior?” And they not only miss life on earth, but life after also. Some seed fell on good ground, and grew for a while, then the weeds grew and overtook it. Jesus was Lord for a season, then the pressures of the world won out. Too many succumb to this, and only a few return. But some take the seed, and water it, nourish it, and watch it grow. It becomes the central part of life, and their life, and enjoy a full life. Not perfect, but headed towards perfection. They have the same problems as the first two, but handle them different. They have a full life, and pass it on to others. They ride the ride of their life in Jesus, and never look back when doubters or the trendy advise them to quit. They realize they are living in freedom, a freedom to make their own decisions, to raise their kids the same way, and live life to its fullest. We call them Christians, because they have the life of Christ inside them, a choice they made themselves. Their choice to live in freedom, sometimes reflected in their choice to ride. And passing it on to their kids and grandkids...

Today I turned 59, and I see too many my age who are looking forward to retirement with no dreams of what to do. They once dreamt when younger, but gave in to all the warnings. The never went swimming right after eating. They never tried riding, and sadly never tired Jesus. To them, I would like to offer the following advice. Think about it and pray about. What are you waiting for? After you’re dead is no time to take action. Something to consider today, whether from your dangerous perch on the sofa, or from behind the safety of your handlebars. Freedom is available today, NOW! It has a name, Jesus, and this somebody is the something you are looking for. Although it is true, not all should ride, we all need Jesus. Many are called, few are chosen.

And for you political types, there are no recorded instances of terrorist activity among motorcyclists. Join in the battle against terror today-RIDE!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

motorcycles, boring?

One of the side effects of having MMD, Multiple Motorcycle Disorder, is that they don’t get ridden very much. Add in the additional rides from Triumph’s Press Fleet, and I ride a lot of miles, just not on any particular bike. And while sitting in the garage the other day, I noticed how the Tiger seemed lonely, bored to just be sitting. Our regular touring mount, she has seen 48 states and over 80,000 miles in her first five years, last year when our vacation got cut short by my life flight ride, she had to be trailered back to So Cal. The irony in this is that next to her in the garage is the GS 1000, which last year I put more miles on than the Tiger, adding to her 25,000! And just looking at this thoroughbred wanting to run, it seemed that she was bored, so many roads, yet here I sit in the barn. So I promise to get out and ride her more-soon, ending her boredom of freedom from the road, and mine too. But it made me think, the Tiger seemed bored, but it isn’t a boring motorcycle, is there such a thing? Consider if you would, these three examples...Born to be boring...

A few years back I was invited to ride in a coronation at a private school, during their graduation they invited those who rode to give rides to the graduates along a parade route, a big semi-circle. I had a Speed Triple, Intense orange that day, and among the Harley crowd it stuck out, but not as much as two bling bikes, so overdone as to get attention-try turning away next time you hear brakes squeal, that kind of attention. Chrome everywhere, these trailer queens, the bikes, rode a few laps, when both started to smoke from overheating. Then pulled over and parked, unable to be ridden, and no one went to see why. These BLING! disasters were boring, even to look at, let alone not being able to be ridden. So pathetic I almost felt sorry for them, as they loaded them back in their pickups, BORING!

Yeas ago rotary engines were to be the answer to new emission laws, Yamaha and Norton experimented, Norton even produced some for police work in Europe. But Suzuki took the bold step and put one into production. It’s performance figures seemed good, styling was questionable the first year, but it was boring to ride. Where is the excitement of two wheels? Nothing happened via the exhaust note-it whirred! Remember the Mazda commercials? Back off the gas, it kept going-soundless. If possible to make a soul less motorcycle, they had succeeded. RIP-more famous in death, than when ridden in life. And a few years ago, when the Japanese were trying to reinvent the cruisers, as they had performance in the 60’s, a Hessian and I looked at a Yamaha on display at a IMF show in Long Beach. Almost speechless, and embarrassed, I opened the conversation with “You know, if you had one of these, you’d be a real biker, too.” And at that point he stuck out his hand, introduced himself as Sam and we talked motorcycles, for almost 20 minutes. And how far it had come, yet how far it has fallen just looking at this boring custom. A couple of guys who really ride, almost put to sleep by some committee in Japan’s idea of what a motorcycle should be. If two wheels stir the soul, this bike shouted for a pickup to ride home in.

Add any electric bike, sorry these are really two wheeled golf carts, and you find me bored, because they are boring. Electric may work OK on your toothbrush, drill, or golf cart, but the heart of a motorcycle beats best to a 2 or 4-stroke beat. Boring, wake me when it’s over. But how will I know if it’s boring? Erase the bikini babes, still interested?

Now one thing I have never heard described as boring is the gospel. If any man led an exciting life, it was Jesus. And we can lead the same kind of exciting life if we follow Him. Yet why in the past have I fallen asleep in church, bored out of my mind? One example springs to mind, when attending a funeral for a friend a few years back. This pastor spent over an hour telling the gospel, the same gospel that Billy Graham can share in 10-15 minutes and see a crowd saved, and the same gospel God made simple so I could get it. Yet this man, and sadly others I have endured, seem to think they must fill all of the hour, even while thinking, “I have their attention, I’m not letting them go.” And so many find church boring because of them, not because of the gospel. The same gospel that Jesus promises “a life of abundance,” can be put to sleep by some overbearing speaker. So I find I try to trim my gospel to 2-5 minutes, the attention span of a 5 year old. If they can get it, so can I. Can you? The life of a Christian should be exciting, new mercies every morning, not the same old, rote religion, which, by the way, Jesus warned about. Spontaneous life in Christ, always new and exciting, but sometimes dumbed down by religion. And then having to substitute plans, programs, and processes to keep the flock interested, but not always fed.

Ask Jesus for some excitement in your life today. And be ready. It may be simply answering a question about Him, or sharing a testimony. Or watching as someone you pray for is healed. Or going to a Wednesday night service and being invigorated. But God knows, and isn’t bored with you, so why be bored with Him? Too much BLING!? Get back to the basics. Too much pastor and not enough Jesus? Ask God and He will direct you to a fellowship where you can be fed. Alternative Jesus? Get out now! Most of the Bible is filled with warnings about false teachers. Seek Jesus today for that abundant life. Be bored no more! Hear the sound of the gospel in your life!

Without Jesus you have no good news. You have lies or a substitute savior. Don’t be embarrassed by the gospel, live it. Base it on Him instead of religion, and you won’t be embarrassed, or bored. And let no one say to you, “ you know if you had the truth, you too could be a real Christian.”

If your religion is slower than your ride, maybe it is time to change. No boredom in heaven, why BLING when you can sing! I can’t wait to hear about your next ride. And please, no neon lighted bikes.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

passion or obsession

While attending the Motte Farm Car Show I got to visit with two men who both had red 1972 MGB’s. Joining in the conversation, I had a butterscotch 72 Midget, Theresa also had a 72 Midget, and we had a 1980 B, the last year, I was instantly welcomed into the conversation. One car had been customized, things we would have done if it was ours when we were young. He had the Mini-lite wheels, been lowered a bit, and other subtle touches that a non-MG owner would not notice or appreciate. But they both were passionate about their cars, and had a good attitude towards them. For among the other over restored sometimes we will find claims of the only one, or 1 of 10 ever made, showing off their exclusivity. Exacerbated by their low miles from not driving it. The everyday driver, had a sign on it, “1 of 550,000 produced!” Gotta love it, and they knew their product, and had fun driving them. My kind of car guys, and after telling British car jokes, and mourning the passing of the Brit sport cars in society, a void readily filled by the Japanese with reliable “sporty cars,”we left, them discussing a place the one knew to get a new tonneau cover. Car guys, with a soft spot in their head for the British...maybe all the parts falling off their cars weren’t of the finest British quality? But these guys were passionate about MG’s, and loved them, but were real in their approach. And drove them just to show it...sharing stories and info with each other, just in case they were the one on the side of the road next...

I also talked with another man, nice guy, who had an original 1957 Chevy Bel Air 4-door sedan, 52,000 original miles, with factory air still in the unused spare tire. It was spotless, a view back to 1957 and what the cars really looked like. Matador red, too. And with a plethora of 55-57 Chevy parts available, his was as is from the factory. He had researched its history, and showed me all the things repaired over the years. How the engine was still original, even wanted me to climb under and look to see, I passed. He was passionate about it as were the MGB guys, but then went off into another dimension. In order to keep all the numbers original, he had the master cylinder removed and replaced, even having the original plate from the old installed on the new, so the numbers matched. At that point it was an obsession, and things that we would not care about, just repair, to him had become an obsession. He loved the car, but the car owned him. As it had the previous owners. I can only thank them for their obsession so I could enjoy it, maybe more than he did. At least he drove it, sparingly.

We all get obsessed by things, and on my last Torches ride, 2 young guys on new Harleys, were planning on stopping at every HD store across the US. While we planned the next day’s route, they checked out the route for Harley dealers. Sometimes leaving early, and arriving late and missing out, but they got their shirts. And also new chrome, a new seat, and any thing else graced with the Bar and Shield along the way. Obsessed, maybe. Just maybe though a result of Harley carefully putting their stores by a freeway exit. But they had fun, hope they had as much fun as we did. Wasn’t the ride all about 911? Their trip photos would be different than ours. Did they ever thank HD for their forethought of putting so many dealers by the freeway exits, just for them?

When I first got saved, I still partied-a lot. But no matter how hung over, or high, I still would make myself read a chapter of the Bible every night before passing out. I was obsessed with it, just not out while partying. I had told God I would try this Jesus stuff out, but that I would still party, and sleep around. His answer may surprise you, it did me. “OK.” And so I did, until my heart towards Him started changing. Soon I didn’t want to, and began reading my Bible sober. Love will do that, rules won’t. My friends changed-they didn’t want me around, when it was really me that was changing. And as I got closer to God, I wanted to please Him, because I love Him, not out of fear of retribution, or thinking it kept me saved. We had a relationship, and we would visit and talk. And soon the things of old passed away, well most of them, and Jesus Christ was truly Lord of my life. But I did it His way, for our ways still lead to death and disappointment. I had been obsessed with doing good, now I had a passion for Jesus-much different. For just like the woman at the well, whom Jesus told “go and sin no more,” He knew she would, and I would and still do. But with a new heart,we saw things differently, and wanted to please Him. He actually became Lord when I started doing the things He wanted-His will be done. And so it continues today...Jesus the same as ever, me in a constant growth mode. Maturity we call, not realizing that when fully matured, we die, just like any seed. And then our blessed hope of heaven becomes reality. Not earned, but given, by grace as a gift. What gift can you earn that is more valuable?

So I try to live my life as the MG guys, enjoying it and also knowing its limitations. Enjoying what I have for what it is, but also approaching God in the same way. Putting Him first, passionately. Not obsessing over rules and religion, but enjoying the freedom in the spirit. So like the MG guys, whether broken down in the rain with the top leaking, where the oil spot marks where I last parked, and with always a project to do, I press on. Knowing Jesus loves me as I am, and enjoying the gift. Not an original, but a changed man, a new creature in Christ. The old things passed away. New parts, with new testimonies, even a scar to show where He has been. The way He wants it, a passion not an obsession. I can’t keep up, and He doesn’t set pace so I can’t. And waits for me where I lag or fall. It’s called grace...sometimes best learned in a storm or on the side of the road.

And to those of you who feel I obsess over Triumphs, I don’t. I also own a Suzuki that I rode this weekend. Of course I wore my Triumph shirt...some habits just die hard after all.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

how many sides does a circle have?

Lines have more of an impact on our daily lives than we give them credit for. I have waited my turn to talk on our party line, enjoyed the hemline of mini-skirts, and grimaced as my waistline expanded. I have been next in line for promotion, watched Over the Line,and signed on the dotted line to buy a home. I have watched balls hit the foul pole, a vertical extension of the foul line, although they are in fair territory, and seen touchdowns denied for not crossing the goal line. I have seen old people with lines on their faces, and lines from the tracks of their tears. I have had a great credit line, heard great opening lines, and been slapped when trying to use both. I have tried unsuccessfully to stay within the lines, to color inside the lines, and don’t cross over the double yellow line. I have waited in lines to buy tickets, stood in line to return items, and never have been in a police line up. I have been in baseball line ups, lined up for kickball, and lined up by height or in alphabetical order. I have been in unemployment lines, been asked what line of work I was in, and admired the lines of a classic Corvette. I have seen battles over fence lines, been told I was out of line, and looked for imaginary lines. I have crossed state lines, county lines, and border lines. I have seen the sun disappear behind the horizon, another line, and come up again, over another line. I have been put on hold while on line, bought things on line, and heard the song “Wichita Lineman,” is he still on the line? I have read line after line of articles, been sold a line of goods, and sold a line of goods. I will tear along the dotted line, have seen a cartoon with Terralong the dotted lion, and been in gas lines. I have seen curvy lines, straight lines, and dotted lines, all different, yet all lines. You may have your own list, but be assured, lines are a part of our lives we don’t give them enough credit for.

MY HD TV has more lines than the old black and white sets, been told to toe the line when it comes to rules, and been out of line when I didn’t. I have cut in line at high school cafeterias, been thrown out of line for the same, and gone to the end of the line because of it. I have seen marriages, relationships, and lives at the end of the line, and been first in line-if you just reverse the order to back to front. I watch as scanners read lines to tell me the cost of a product, and stand in return lines when I wish I hadn’t bought the same thing. I have watched at Costco as people form their own lines, and then get upset when someone follows the arrows and starts their own line-per the rules. So it is with lines...

I have crossed over state lines, and been going 75 mph safely, only to see State Police pulling cars over for the same speed when their state laws are only 65 mph. I have been in different homes, where you don’t wear shoes on their carpet-keep them on and you have crossed over their line. But it is the imaginary lines that continue to fascinate me. When you cross from New Mexico into Colorado, it goes from brown to green, you can see the line. Same with yards absent of a fence, one neighbor’s yard being separated by a line where they stop cutting. Or a fence line that separates the two, how can it be on both sides at once? And as lines form boundaries, when you cross them you are now under the jurisdiction of the new territory. When visiting prisoners in jail, you are under the same rules as them, you lose freedom as you enter, they don’t gain it because you are there. Crossing into another state the police don’t care about the previous state’s laws, you are under theirs now. Even baseball has ground rules for each park, still three outs and nine innings, but they can have an impact on how you get there. How many imaginary backs have been broken from stepping on the cracks, the lines of a sidewalk? So it seems although lines may keep some out, while it keeps others in, lines form a boundary, a way of telling where we are, a line of demarcation that either denies or expands our freedom.

I have watched as lines of fans wait to get a program or baseball car signed, sometimes for a fee, and watched as the hungry stand in line for food. For it is what is at the end of the line, or the head of the line that attracts us. So it seems I have been on line, inline, out of line, behind the line, over the line, and been at the head of the line. Both ends. Jesus makes the difference when He is at the head of the line. He honors the rules of the line, but expands them, giving a freedom outside of the lines. Rules and regulations in religion form a line around Christ, a boundary that keeps many from enjoying the freedom He promises, and delivers. Many wait in line for communion, once a year, but fail to commune with Him daily via prayer. They fall for a religious line about God, and sadly follow it, never experiencing true freedom. It is like learning to ride in a parking lot, just following the lines drawn on the pavement, and then getting out on the street, with the only lines designed to keep traffic on their side. Ride too close to the line and it can be dangerous. A freedom, but being taught religiously to adhere to the lines, many fail because they have lost direction, the lines are gone. what do they do? When asked the other day, if I had an answer, I admitted “I don’t have all the answers, but I have an answer, Jesus.” Who gives us the answers, and gives us the freedom to live outside of the lines of religion. To obey all laws of His-love God first, then your neighbor as yourself, and showing you how to stay on the straight and narrow, and still enjoy life. He operates outside of the lines of religion, yet in Him you gain respect for others, love of others, and a desire for God to be in your life. Something no preacher’s line, or religious line can offer, or deliver. His line may be straight, but it leads directly to heaven, and even widens to keep you on it when needed. A line that as you go into the horizon of life doesn’t shrink, but seems to expand. As lines, both imaginary, and seen, seem to disappear as you get closer to Him. You don’t seem to need the laws of lines when you walk in the spirit.

But some cross over the line, and are looking for the way back. Again Jesus is the way, offering us forgiveness, and showing the way. Sometimes a curvy road, for those of us who ride, but always helping us stay on the straight and narrow, following His line of love. All roads lead to somewhere, so do all lines. Only His leads to heaven. Ever wonder how many sides does a circle have? Two, an inside and an outside. But how many lines? One, that is continuous, that seems to have no beginning or no end, it goes on forever. Complete and incomplete at the same time. Where are you in Christ? Inside or outside the circle of faith? Are you part of the continuous line in Him, or trying to stay straight and narrow on your own? There may be two lines in heaven, make sure you are in the righteous one, where you pass into heaven. It may even be the shorter of the two lines, because you got in line earlier while here on earth. If not, no cutting in after death. For you it is the end of the line and hell. Make the choice now, so if asked “what line are you in?” you can tell the asker “I’m in line for heaven.” A line that goes somewhere without boundaries. That leads to Christ. Don’t cross over the double yellow and find out! Although life many times will send you to the end of the line, Jesus sends you to the front. Straight, dotted, or double-His is the line to follow. A line of one to follow.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.

humpty honda

Raymond Lowey, perhaps the premier industrial designer of the 20th century, had a sign on his desk reading “WEIGHT IS THE ENEMY.” At that time he had designed such iconic items as the Coca Cola bottle, and Studebaker was hoping he could add some style to their automobile line. In an era when things were mast of cast iron, no real plastics available readily, and aerodynamics were still for aeroplanes, he was forward thinking in his approach, reduce weight, put less stress on components, and it will take less horsepower. Or in the case of more horsepower with less weight, it would mean greater acceleration, and better fuel economy. 70 years ago things just not important, but today billions have been spent trying to get that last 1/10 of mpg, or mph. Computers have helped, they can control engine functions, but cannot aid in weight reduction. Lighter, more expensive materials, plastics, and alloys have helped the cause, but if you are overweight to start, the weight cutting can be more costly than just designing it correct in the first place.

Reading a September, 1975 Road Test magazine, I was interested in a test of a Jensen Healey, an English sports car, the top went down marking it as a real sports car. Not sporty as badges on anything from mini-vans to plain Jane four door sedans advertise. But a real sports car, with some interesting specs. 0-60 in 8.3 seconds, OK today, quick 40 years ago. Gas mileage in the 27+ range, all from a 2-seater, with wind in your face, and the sound of the exhaust providing the music. But the kicker was it only weighed 2200 pounds! Or about the same as two Gold Wings! Now true the Wing has a better stereo and cupholders, is much quieter, and costs much more-even in 2013 dollars. But we are comparing cars to bikes! And some British sports cars weighed less, like the Austin Healey Sprite of my friend Joe, that we used to put on his front porch, sideways so he couldn’t drive it off, by only four of us. I have even seen Gold Wings with mechanical assists for getting them on the side stand, maybe that is why they ride in groups, in case one falls, it takes all the Wing’s horses, and all the Wing’s men to pick up Humpty Honda again. Lowey was right, weight is the enemy.

It is for adults to. Having lost 40 pounds in my open heart surgery diet, one I don’t recommend, I feel so much better. Ask Ken and Marcia, both losing 40+ pounds. Bikerjim losing the same. And suddenly we see the problem-us. But the solution is also the same-us. We can control our intake, sometimes painfully-pizza still smells good, and I hold my breath past In and Out, but I feel so much better. And my body is healthier. And it adds to my good looks. LOL. Now I am not about to tell you what to eat, but healthy is a good thing. It may not add years to your life, sorry surveys, you ain’t God, but it can add life to your years. And just as less weight on the bike effects handling, it also effects your knees, ankles, and the rest of your body. If you are brave, or old enough, look back 40 years and see how good you looked. The Disco clothes fit tighter as they should, and you fit better in your leathers-and didn’t mind being seen with the top down, on your car. You wanted others to see how good you looked, as opposed to wearing expanders on your vest, and spandex in your jeans. The mirror didn’t shrink, and you didn’t either. Now that I have cheered you up...

God has given us this wonderful thing called choice. We can say yes to anything, like sin, or no to the same. He refers to it in Galatians 5 as fruit of the spirit. The last one listed-self control. and the hardest, but maybe most rewarding, as it is your choice, you can either accept full credit or full blame. For it is by the choices we make that reflect the glory of God in or lives. A few years back Dr. Nick lost over 250 pounds, and when I saw him in church, he greeted me, and I said “Hi Dr. Nick.” Not because I recognized him, I didn’t, but knew his voice. Also I had seen him on the news about his weight loss, or there is no way I would have known him. He looked great! Now he knows how I knew. Foreknowledge. And God offers us the same thing. Found in the Bible, with instructions and encouragement...but it is your choice.

You can put lipstick on a pig, but he is still a pig, you can build horsepower in an engine, but will sacrifice economy. Things that weigh more are less efficient. I was glad when plastic two liters came along, lifting glass 32 oz. bottles all day was tiring. So consider your weight today. and don’t delay. There is a difference between waiting and delaying. Waiting is looking for the right time God prepares, delaying is putting it off. Not obeying God, when it is for your own best benefit. Those that wait upon the Lord, shall renew their strength...those that weight upon the Lord delay. It could be you are sports car in a mini-van body. Carrying weight you don’t need. Can you see your toes? Maybe the hardest test of all? But do you see Jesus? Do you want to? It is your choice, self control. Now don’t you feel better?

I think I’ll finish off the Oreos just to celebrate. Only kidding, I think I’ll slip into the jeans I haven’t worn inyears, throw a leg over my Street Triple, and take a ride. But not past the In and Out. Please Lord, lead me not into temptation. Wait or weight, god is waiting on you. Your choice, self control. Only you can decide. Some ride are required to ride a treadmill, I rather ride my motorcycle. So many decisions, so little time. But only one Jesus. Make Him your decision today. Don’t wait, remove the weight today. You can have a shape like a Coke bottle, rather than indulging in one. And no, you aren’t too short for your weight.

Remember trying to shift in platform shoes? Maybe the only way to add inches and not weight. But are they hard to shift with....

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

where have all the old names gone?

Indian Motorcycles is alive and, well producing motorcycles again. New Indian motorcycles, at a premium price. And I hope they do well, this time. For since they went to their final rest, at the time back in 1953, the name has been resurrected a few times, around a new bike, and new companies. Only to fail, leaving the newest owner with a dream and a marketplace to fill. Of all the great old names in motorcycling, only Harley Davidson, and Triumph thrive today. Harley has escaped death a few times, and was finally purchased and reborn in 1983 when a group of executives bought Harley, and reinvented it, along with some of the slickest marketing ever known, so good a course is taught at the college level about it. Triumph, a year older than The Motor Company, was all but out of business, down to a few bikes built a year for custom orders, when John Bloor, a British industrialist bought the name and the rights. He builds cities, and although not a biker, per se, was influenced by others enough to resurrect Triumph and its name. For historical value if nothing else. And when he decided to build new Triumph motorcycles, figured he had one chance to make it. And it had to be based on Quality, something missing from the market until the Japanese invented it in the 60’s. You can only get by on your reputation for a short time, and today they are celebrating over 20 years in business! Building bikes in multiple countries, slowly establishing the old standby “the sun never sets on the English empire.” And so I hope that Indian makes it, and after sitting on one, no test rides yet, I was impressed. Great styling, quality, and workmanship. High priced, but if can’t afford it, ride something else. Just don’t touch my bike! And although not a cruiser guy, I hope they make it. And being owned by Polaris, who makes snowmobiles, and Victories, I think they will, with people and money to back them, could an Indian be in your future? Another American built V-twin?

And so we see value in a name, and what it can mean. Norton has also been trying to re-invent itself, a few times over, and has even built a few bikes, for display only. BSA, RIP, gone forever. As with Matchless, Excelsior, and other hallowed names in motorcycledom. I even know the guy who is bringing back Crocker, an LA based bike from the thirties. Steeped in tradition, and folklore, I hope he makes it. Vincent didn’t, although my friend and fellow rider Barney Li tried. Only his dying from a crash while touring prevented us from knowing how good they could have been. Even Royal Enfield continues on today, with a cult like following, their bikes still made in India, since 1954, bragging about how you can buy a new 1954 bike today. Low priced, and good for around town, I too hope they make it. We need the old names, the old history to come back. For we have a generation who asks me often “Triumph, does Honda make them?” To them Honda is an old name, going back to the 40’s. Did they really ride back then? So I advise these new companies to take the example of Harley and Triumph, and stay true to your roots. Don’t try to be what you aren’t, just ask Eric Buell, raped by Harley. but now thriving again on his own, you can’t keep a good man, or his bike down. So maybe what we ride tells us more about ourselves and who we are than we think. I ride a Triumph, you go figure.

Funny thing about revival, you can only revive something that was once alive. Resurrection only works on the dead. And that was what all were before we came to Christ-dead, in sin. it took a savior, Jesus to save us. Not religion, not chanting, not more rules, or legalism. We don’t need more religious types to show us the way, we needed Jesus. So that is exactly what God did, He resurrected Him. History, even outside of the Bible tells us of Him, He is an historical fact. Birth and death. But it is His resurrection that throws people off, that they find hard to believe. Yet the same people that have enough faith to push a starter button, not knowing how it works, don’t have enough faith to believe that Jesus is God! I guess over 700 prophecies fulfilled about Him isn’t enough, they want proof. And Jesus provides it via faith. Sometimes backed up by actions, the proof of faith. I had a customer once who was a bitter, beligerant gay man. Who hated the fact I was a Christian, and was looking to vent on me. I was the one who would take his wrath for all those who deny Christ, because I don’t. I must be weak, for all Christians are. Wrong again. And when he got in my face, and physically threatened me, and could not be removed from the lot, I confronted him. Surprising him, as we all know Jesus was a weakling, or so the story goes. When he started attacking my Jesus, I got toe to toe with him, and told him, “when you leave here today, make sure you tell people that Jesus Christ saved your life. For if I wasn’t a Christian, I would have flattened you!” And he left, not saying a word. My boss just standing there watching. You see, Jesus Christ does save lives. Sometimes He just uses us to remind others.

You see there is still power in that name. But only when used properly. That wasn’t about me, although it could have been, but I cared that day for that man to see Jesus, and I still do today. Be angry and sin not, we are told. Tough to do. But it took a tough man to hang on a cross for six hours, to love us when we were and are unlovable. To ask His Father, “do not hold their sin against them, for they know no what they do.” Fortunately I wasn’t alone that day, I had Jesus with me. And there is still power in that name. Power that saves, and heals, and changes lives. And that day, it saved both of us. Me from a possible battery charge and jail, him from a stay in the hospital. Only Jesus can do that, don’t attempt that trick alone.

You see there are old names, resurrected names, and new names trying to take advantage of a reputation. But there is no other name at which all will bow to some day. Whether in heaven or hell, we will all bow to Jesus. I choose to now, I know I can use the practice. And if you are what you ride, then you certainly are who you believe in. Jesus Christ, more than just a resurrected name, He is who He said He was. It doesn’t take a graveyard for resurrection to work, only something dead, that is seeking life. And only found in Jesus. There is truly power in His name, but it takes Him to stand behind it. Why live on just His reputation when you can be making one with Him today? Not bad for man who never ran an ad, or a marketing campaign? There are names, and there are names. Bow now and avoid the rush. Now there is a name I am glad to rights to! Not bad for a 2000 year old model!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com