just three bikes from out of town

It is always good to get away, and this Easter break Theresa and I went to Paso Robles, and stayed at the Melody Ranch Motel.  We have been staying there for years, and know Frank, the owner quite well.  A 1950’s motel that is for real today, with prices reflecting a slower time in the economy.  A short trip, I could only put 1500 miles on the press bike, so we chose great roads over long distance.  We were the first to arrive, and later after resting went to dinner, noticing two other arrivals via motorcycle.  Across the lot was a Street Glide,  and one look told you this was not his first ride. Something about the way it sat and was loaded told me it was not his first ride.  But right next to me was a new 2014 BMW GS1200, the off road adventure version.  Brand new,it was still shiny red, and loaded with accessories from a trip through the Tourtech catalog.  In fact it had more chrome than the Harley, crash bars, GPS mounts, bags, and loaded up-in comparison to the Tiger Explorer XC I was riding.  Just looking at it, it had to have cost well over $20,000, the buy in price for BMW’s these days, the Harley not much less.  But as I surveyed the differences, it dawned on me how much alike the riders must be, despite our different choice of rides.  One-we were all from somewhere else, and on the road to somewhere, retired or on a trip, as this was Monday night.  We had chosen the road as our destination, although we were spending down time at the same motel.  We had money and experience tied up in our rides also, as these were not beginner bikes.  We were each loyal to our brands, although a common denominator of motorcycles was our most common thread.  I never did see the owners, but meeting their bikes told me something about them, and I wondered what did they think of me or my ride, or did they even notice at all?  And they both were gone early the next morning-before 8 am, the road calling, for me a day’s ride, locally when I got up.  But these three bikes from out of town made me think all day of friends I meet along the road, how a Harley rider has told me of great sport bike roads, how BMW riders will visit with me at rest stops, comparing road notes, and places to eat, and even Gold Wing riders will pull over from their 55 mph cruise to let us pass, then talk with us when we meet.  We all ride, but ride at different speeds, rates, roads, and brands.  We all ride our own ride, as we should, and we should enjoy the ride, instead of trying to keep up, or wait for another rider.  You only go as fast as the slowest rider, so I ride alone, you make your own choice.  But that afternoon it was representative of our brotherhood, we all ride, with the road the destination, not just the way there.

If you don’t ride you won’t know what it is like to be part of the brotherhood of bikers that do.  We wave, we stop for others, and even though our brand loyalties may separate us, when we get together things get done.  We raise money, help others, visit kids in hospitals, and support vets.  Invite one, and you have invited all, so have plenty of chili and coffee handy.  And we don’t knock, we feel that welcome....just  like at church, right?  For years I have told people that the church needs to be more like the biker world, we have Jesus, the ultimate, why not get along better?  Yet I see Baptists try to impress me with their legalism, Lutherans with their ceremonies, and even had a Pentacostal tell me I was unteachable, because I wouldn’t believe what he said, although it wasn’t in the Bible.  The evangelicals tell me I am not evangelistic enough, and the fundamentalists accuse me of not spending enough time in the word.  I never realized it was so tough being a Christian, no wonder I ride so much.  So over the years I have come to appreciate where each one is with God.  Some need the legalism, freedom in the spirit scares them, you mean I can really trust God?  Some need the ceremonies, I love it when each service is different.  Just because a preacher has an hour to speak, doesn’t mean he has to use it.  Why do some waste an hour, and lose an audience, when Billy Graham can speak 5 minutes and many are saved?  Some preach from messages,  I find a new message just by going through the Bible verse by verse.  I believe in healing and miracles, yet some deny them, am I a liar because I am a miracle?  Can we all just get along, remembering our common thread is Jesus, and seek Him and not a form of religion?  Can we be like my friend Fr. Al, no win heaven, who used to serve communion to all believers, against his church’s advice.  He saw Jesus, who knows what they saw.  Why don’t we, why can’t we get along in the spirit?

Years ago, Juan Carlos Ortiz, wrote a book about this, “Call to Discipleship.”  Living in a South American country, he saw many doing things in God’s name, but not getting along with each other.  They talked of unity, like Democrats talk of free speech, OK as long as you agree with them.  So when God put on his heart to be united in the spirit, he knocked on church doors with his vision, and was rejected.  He was seen as a threat, until some said yes, and a revival started, freedom in the spirit had overcome long standing religious lines, and the church grew.  It only took one man and his vision from God, but it was God who brought about the change.  Just think a minute, when the world sees one biker, they see us all.  What does the world see when it sees one Christian?  Or two or three who don’t get along?  Do they see Jesus, who said He was among them, or are they denying Him, themselves and their religion more important than a relationship with Him?  What unity are you seeking-your answers will tell us.  We are the church, and God is adding to us daily, so be in the spirit.  Some will teach, some will disciple, some will visit, and will evangelize.  But we will be called in the spirit, and what Jesus calls us to do will be done-His will be done. 

When you look across the parking lot, who do you see?  Do you see other brothers in Christ, or do you see their denomination?  Do you see the differences, or do you see Jesus?  Are you bound by the legalism of denominations, or are you free indeed in Jesus?  Do you dare ask to pray with someone not of your faith?  A stranger?  Do you have Jesus in common?  Learn the lesson from the biker world, we all ride, yet ride different bikes.  Some exude brand loyalty first, and miss out from other brands.  Some cruise, some carve corners, some set the cruise at 55 and hang on for dear life.  Some live their ride through catalogs and magazines.  We are all on a road to somewhere, not always knowing where the road leads.  Some will rush to their destination, then hurry up and wait for the next ride.  Some keep going, too early to stop.  Some will go back and ride the road again, enjoying the curves, and establishing new braking points.  But we all ride!  And we have a message of being an individual through unity.  Church we all have given our lives to Christ, or we wouldn’t be Christians.  Why can’t we be alive and unify in the spirit?  Let us be known by our unity to God, and not our differences.  Someday we will all reside in heaven, those that believe, and you may just end up next to a biker.  Or a Catholic, or a Pentacostal, or a Baptist.  Or me.  But we will all be with Jesus, and none of that will matter.  Jesus taught us to pray, “ on earth as it is in heaven...” A reminder of three bikes from out of town, we all ride.  If a Harley rider can wave to a Gold wing rider, you see miracles still occur.  Be one today, you will be amazed at the doors it opens up, and you will find Jesus is behind one.  That knocking you hear may not be your engine, but your heart.  Let Jesus be your call to discipleship today...what gets your motor running?  If you don’t know Jesus you will never know heaven.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

why do it right when you can do it yourself?

Let’s get one thing perfectly clear right up front, I don’t work on cars, motorcycles, or fix things around the house.  Although I spent most of my life in automotive, I never fixed anything, I advised or managed.  Put a wrench in my hand and it becomes a hammer, a screwdriver becomes a pry bar, and a hammer becomes an implement of destruction.  I have lost tips to fingers from power tools, and cut more cords, and had more tools go up in smoke from abuse.  Just the thought of me attempting to fix anything sets off tirades of the seven words you can’t say on radio, and you can be assured whatever the problem was, it will cost twice as much and take twice as long to fix.  My hands have no relationship with my brain, the two seem at odds when it comes to tools, so I learned long ago it is easier, cheaper, and less stressful to let someone else do it right the first time. Which lands much credence to my motto of “I rather be riding than wrenching.”  A simple oil change at the last moment before a trip almost led to not going.  Forgetting to replace the drain plug before adding oil, when the stores are closed, and no lights in your garage is not smart.  And finally fixing it by headlight not advised.  There is a reason spark plugs have washers-don’t remove them.  I have over tightened nuts only to have them spin free, under tightened only to have them fall off, and forced a standard thread on a metric-damaged for good, just not mine.  I have forced a 16” tube over an 18” rim, I have forced a single pole bulb into a double pole socket, and cut things too short-missing by that much.  I could probably walk you through an engine rebuild, but run when I grab a wrench.  I have used too much gasket glue, dropped the last nut and never heard it hit the floor, and always have extra parts left over after fixing anything, and when it was once joked that I should call Ford and tell them how to save money by not using so many nuts and bolts, I was stopped by it being pointed out it was a joke.  Chains either stay too loose, or are so tight they make the motorcycle pull.  And never have me fix anything by color-I am color blind and can put a blue plug into a red with disastrous results.  Knives are used to strip screws, hammers to adjust, and vise grips to remove bolts after the heads are stripped off.  So I adhere to the old adage, “if you have someone to cook your food, cut your hair, or fix your motorcycle, let them do it and don’t interfere.”  So I don’t, leaving me to question others like myself who are mired in frustration, “why do it right when you can do it yourself?”

But when faced with the inevitable, I try to follow the instructions.  Like the time we needed a new garage door opener, my wife refused to get out and open it in the rain.  So off to Home Cheepo I go, but a good one, and spend the next 2 hours doing a 45 minute job.  And it still won’t work!  So after taking it apart for the 4th time, I note instead of having three pieces-A-B-C, I have A-B-B.  Even the packers are out to get me.  So going back I get the right one, and soon the garage door opens at the push of  button, the throwing of tools ceases, and I have escaped major injury.  And my wife stays dry when it rains, so maybe persistence can win out over lack of skills. 
And only yesterday when the printer stopped printing, it only took 2 hours to fix a 5 minute remedy.  I seems the instructions were serious when they included step 8, quitting after step 7 fixes nothing, but does add to the aggravation.  And my other accomplishments include, gate won’t open, fixed-now it won’t close either.  AC in car won’t work-fix window crank, now window opens.  Car horn honks on hard right turns-disconnect horn.  But it just isn’t me-I know guys who have put antifreeze in the washer bottle-almost impossible to get off of car and windshield.  I had a tech once put 26 quarts of oil in an engine, and it seized.  His last job was fixing it before he was fired.  I have seen the good tires onteh right side of a car replaced, leaving the bald ones on the other right side unchanged.  So maybe I am not an isolated instance....maybe I am like the joke, “how many does it take to change a light bulb?”  “It depends on how much the light bulb wants to change.”

And so we are brought to those who consider themselves religious.  Who take Jesus, add some laws, regulations, and think they have something better.  We are currently studying Jesus+nothing=everything, and it is true.  We have it all in Christ, no need to be circumcised, no need for special clothes, for making donation pledges, or for acting holy.  We are told if we follow the law, we need to be better than a Pharisee, we need to shine ahead of him more than he does when following him by a 1000 feet.  Too tiring for me.  Yet some approach god like I do tools, they find it is better to make it impersonal, to let someone else get hurt.  Developing their own sense of religion.  Some want to borrow tools, giving them back broken and unusable-and they call that religion.  But most, if not all, choose what fits their life, changing the Bible to fit them, rather than changing to fit God’s plan.  And ending up worse, and not knowing why.  They are the do-it-yourselfers, reinventing the wheel and ending up with a flat tire.  And flat lives, creating their own gospel.  Sadly the gospel we know best, and live most is the gospel of us.  And there is no room for Jesus and our ways.  You cannot serve two masters, and both suffer, so we have to make a choice.  Serve or be served.  Accept Jesus as He is and we change for the better, or accept Jesus and stay the same, blaming God for our mistakes.  It is said you can’t fix stupid, and stupid hurts, if you know that going in, why still do it?  If life was so good, why were you looking for help in it?  Why change if your life is so perfect?

Because we will always have a hole there in our lives that only Jesus can fill.  Cars, money, jobs, houses, and Home Depot cannot fill the need.  It takes Jesus.  It takes us being the wise man who built his house upon the rock, so when the rains came he was safe.  Too late to build after, then it is called rebuild.   So why do it yourself when you can have Jesus?  So why do we do it wrong when we do it ourself?  Make today that last trip to Life Depot, give it all to Jesus.  Home, cars, jobs-He can fix them all.  And show us how to not redamage them again. The Bible, the repair manual for life, and you can know the author personally, no signed copy, but His mark on your life for others to see.  And the evidence of how things change when you follow Him.  Follow His directions instead of your own...and end up where you need to be, rather than where you wish you weren’t. 

Why do it right when you can do it yourself?  The choice is yours.  Like the ad says, “pay me now, or pay me later.”  If you don’t have the time to do it right the first time, why can you always find time to do it the second?  Or third?  God provides the tools you need for life, the instructions, and the way, the truth, and the life to follow.  All found in one man.  Jesus plus nothing equals everything.  How you spend your time is up to you.  You can either join the club of ______, turning riders into mechanics for 90 years, or follow Jesus.  I rather ride than wrench.  Let’s compare stories sometime...I have the scars to prove it.  Now I have the trips.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot

too young to look this old

The Mustang turns 50 years old today.  It is hard to believe that it was that long ago that Ford changed automotive lifestyles for millions with its introduction.  Based on the platform of the best selling Falcon, it was a short trunk, long hood style reminiscent of Classic cars from the 30’s.  Just big enough for two, and maybe two small kids, this was the baby boomer generation after all, sporty enough to look like fun, and a model for everybody.  Secretaries drove six cylinders, while gear heads had a Hi-Po 289 with 271 horses.  Carroll Shelby used it as the basis for his Shelby Mustangs, incredibly fast cars 50 years later.  Hertz rented them on weekends, rent on Friday, race on Sunday, return on Monday.  It was advertised “presenting the unexpected,” and it did.  The early ones referred to as 1964 1/2, they were all really 1965 models, and the Pony car war was on.  Barracuda had been released a few weeks earlier, and it would take Chevrolet until 1966 to release the 1967 Camaro, but Ford had it all first, and foremost.  And being 10 at the time, and fascinated by cars, I can remember seeing my first Mustang...

It belonged to Joey Coleman’s mom, who had traded her 1951 Chevy 2 door coupe for it.  A big deal in the suburbs, as mothers car pooled then, and a station wagon would have been a better conveyance for us kids.  But I admire her choice, it was gray, with a red interior, automatic and the 260 cubic inch V-8, the small V-8, that lasted only a short time.  She would take us for rides around the block, windows down, breeze in our crew cuts, and man we were living.  And for a kid whose parents drive a 4-door Rambler American, this was heaven.  It couldn’t get any better...Then Bruce and Barry’s dad bought a 1966, silver with black vinyl top, with a six cylinder, auto.  Those white walls giving the car a classy look compared to Joey’s mom’s black walls.  And soon they were showing up everywhere.  In school Mr. Dyer had one.  A 1967, dark blue coupe.  Mr. Corea had the same combination, except it had the hi-po 289 with headers, the only quality I ever liked about him.  My eighth grade basketball coach Mr. Ubersax had a yellow 1966 with a 289, with sand bags in the trunk, they were so light in the rear end they would lose traction.  A neighbor on my paper route had a 1967 fast back, gold, and I was careful not to touch when I looked inside.  Mustangs had taken over America, everyone wanted to feel young, and to quote the ad, “Mustang made it happen!”

But my first time behind the wheel was at the World’s Fair in New York in 1964.  Ford used their Rotunda to introduce the Mustang, and you could sit behind the wheel on a guided tour.  Carefully choosing our place inline, so as to get a Mustang, they alternated with Mercury Comets, we got my wish and soon I was behind the wheel, not sure of what I saw, but the view over the hood was glorious.  A ride that ended too soon, and with parents who didn’t want to wait another two hours in line.  But I had my first seat time, some day I would have one.  Now along the way I had friends with Mustangs, Nicky had a 1968 6 cylinder on its last legs, but Vinny had a 1969 Boss 302.  Which he would let me drive, my leg still sore from the stiff clutch.  Unbelievably fast, and worth a year’s pay today, I wish I had one just like it, stiff clutch and all.  But Mustangs were to enter my life, first a 1986 GT convertible, Theresa’s car, 5-speed with headers, it was fast.  Loved to do burnouts, as did my sons riding in the back.  It was our only car for awhile, even taking us on Christmas vacation once, where at 150,000 miles we traded it for a new Thunderbird.  But along the way things started to go wrong, a flat tire, and then the headlights wouldn’t shut off, causing all the patrons in Burger King to notice.  We pretended it wasn’t ours, and laughed the whole ride after.  But it was showing its age....and soon it was good bye Mustang, hello T-Bird, and no cruising to the hamburger stand in her old man’s car, it was hers.  Forget about the library.  But life with Mustang wasn’t over yet, as a new 2001 convertible still sits in the garage, and is used on Cruisin’ Grand, trips to Sonic and the beach, and all with the top down.  So for 50 years Mustangs have made an impact on my life, and I cannot believe it really 50 years.  I’m too young to look this old, or feel it either.  Not quite old enough to be a classic, and not what you would consider collectible, I still have many original parts, save for my aorta.  But as I look around, I see many afraid to get old, to age like Mustang did.  And they end up looking worse for the wear. 

It’s funny how when the Mustang came out, I wanted to look older, so as to pass for 12 and get into movies I wasn’t allowed in yet.  And now approaching 60, I feel young, and any compliment saying “you don’t look your age,” is appreciated.  Of course only if it means I look younger than I am.  Yet I see so many ravaged by sin in their life, taking a toll on them.  Toothless, hairless, and hard of hearing, we will all get old someday.  Some at an early age, so never growing up like I plan.  And it shows in my  life style, no sedans for me, and cars are the option, we ride.  Which keeps us young.  But I find my relationship with Christ is the main reason I feel young.  He takes my burdens, and my worries, and sometimes my only worry is that I don’t worry.  I have learned to walk in His steps, and find it more exciting, and less dangerous. For 39 years now I have been a Christian, and with Jesus leading I still feel young.  Sometimes I feel too young to be this old, passing younger riders while riding.  I prefer the top down to surround sound, headers make their own type of music.  And I find many others who trust God look and feel the same. We wake up to “Good morning Lord,” instead of “good Lord, it’s morning.”  We feel young, think young, and have found the fountain of youth in Christ.  We are going to live forever!  And get a new body in heaven to show for it.  Now I can tell you mine is wearing out, but my relationship with Christ isn’t.  I exercise that more than any other part of my  body, and it keeps me young.  And keeps me alert, and full of joy.  A blessing and a testimony to a life in Christ.  A choice we make, and one I made and have seen the results.

In a life of looking back, I talk to ones who are happy just to “sit up and take their meals.”  To some that are waiting to die.  Who have neglected God, and aged before their time.  Wore out, and feeling useless, but not to Jesus.  He is patient, and is keeping many alive just to be saved.  If you haven’t chosen Him, choose Him today.  Why get old, when you can only get older?  To be in His will and way and enjoy every bit of life He has to offer.  Some will make a visible change, like Joey’s mom from her ‘51 Chevy to a ne Mustang.  Some will always lead a sedan life, wondering what it may have felt like riding with the top down, wind in their hair when they had it.  And some will never enjoy the knowledge of heaven.  I plan to see it first hand, to be there someday.  My reservation is made, my house in process.  50 years ago Ford changed how we look at life with the Mustang, 39 years ago Jesus changed my life when I accepted Him.  What do you look back on?  What are driving today?

Too young to look this old?  Jesus has the answer, ask Him into your life today and start living.  Top down, wind in your hair.  Radio blaring, cruisin’ and enjoying life.  He calls it blessed.  What you call it is between you and Him.  So don’t let anything stand between you and Him.  We all get older, some are old already.  The only growing I intend to do is in Christ.  He calls me a kid.....I like that. And still just old enough to drive...”only Jesus makes it happen!”

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

  

an Easter Carole

The Easter Lily goes back to the Garden of Gethsemane where they sprung up after Christ was arrested there.  They have come to represent purity, love, and faith-based upon the sweat of Jesus hitting the ground there.  These white robed apostles of hope grew after His arrest, a reminder this Easter to us of His death and resurrection to all believers around the world.  But 45 years ago I didn’t know that, but had a new girlfriend, Carole, and needed money, so the Easter lily came into my life.  But I am ahead of myself, so back to the beginning.

We were both sophomores at Scotch Plains Fanwood High School, having come from the two different junior high schools in town.  We were both part of the clique, I was a jock, she was a cheerleader, so our paths crossed naturally.  But she had a boyfriend, Gary, a senior, who I knew from summers at Brookside Park.  They had been a couple the whole year, but this spring they had broken up, and I got the word she liked me, so I put out the word liked her.  And the romance began.  For one week it meant late to class, as I carried her books, and ate lunch with her.  We talked on the phone every night, but I always felt inferior to Gary-he had a job, a car, and they could go out on real dates.  For us it was, well not real.  So needing money, I went to work at Parker’s Wholesale Florist, a huge farm next to Terrill Jr. High, where we had seen the flowers growing for years.  It was always a place for kids to get work, no social security number needed, and since it was Easter time, and they grew lilies, I got in easy.  And started on the Saturday before Easter.  Millions of lilies, reminding me of the popular Who song “Pictures of Lily,” and my job was to stand in a greenhouse, sweating over lilies, wrapping them in colored foil and placing them in a box for shipment, careful not to damage them.  All for $1.60/hour, and for 8 hours I would make over $12.00, enough to keep me well for a week or two in gifts for my new friend.  But around noon, I was exhausted, my legs and hands hurt, and I wanted to see Carole.  So at lunch, which was really lunch time, eaten where you stood, when the whistle blew, you ate what you brought, which for me was nothing.  So I had to look for a way out, finally realizing I could just walk out, which I did, and was down the road when the lunch over whistle blew.  My testosterone in full bloom like the lilies, I was hitching to Carole’s hose and would surprise her, what an act of love, and she would be so surprised she would fall into my arms, and....But it was raining, and she lived as far from Parker’s as you could and still be in Scotch Plains, so I hitched.  Got a ride pretty quick, and only had to walk half a mile in the rain to her house.  Somewhere between the adrenaline and the testosterone, I was sweating, and didn’t even mind the rain, all I could see was Carole.  But when I came up the street to her house, my heart sunk.  There was Gary’s car parked out front, what was he doing there?  Maybe going to get some old things he left there from his time with her, but my mind somehow knew it was over, and I turned around and walked in the downpour to the gas station.  I was going to call her, confront her on the phone, except some friends of Gary’s worked there, this would not be cool.  So I hitched and walked home in the rain, catching cold, nothing compared to my broken heart, and making up some story neither of my parents believed.  And after a meal, I hadn’t eaten all day, and a hot shower, I retreated to my room, and called Carole.  I was hurt, mad, and she was going to feel the pain I did,  again boy was I wrong.

When she picked up the phone, I said “hi, how are you,” a brilliant conversationalist at an early age, and she said we have to talk.  Now even then as it does today, that is not good news, and it means I talk, and you listen. So of course I gave the time tested answer, “sure,” and I did.  She explained how they had made up, and they were right for each other, and hit me with the time honored offer of “can we still be friends?”  Again a mumbled “sure” was the answer, and my broken heart healed, and when I was a senior with a license I too found true love with a sophomore.  Again a car and job, not to mention I had gotten to be a pretty sweet talker by then, put me in the position Gary had enjoyed two years before.  But I never went back to wrapping lilies, and today when I see them, I can remember my 4 hours of torture wrapping them.  Which was nothing compared to the time Jesus spent in the garden, or His 6 hours on the cross.  Nor can the love He expressed that day in any way compare with my adolescent urges.  His is true love, and now I see lilies in a different way.  Giving my story of An Easter Carole a different place of importance.  There would be other girlfriends, and finally my wife of 36 years, and 36 Easters, but today it is Jesus that I look to on the day.  His empty tomb reminding me of how empty my heart felt when I saw Gary’s car, if only I knew then what I do now.  You cannot make someone love you, it truly is an affair of the heart.  We love Him because He loved us first.  And although lilies are pretty, they cannot come close to knowing Jesus personally.

And so today join me in celebrating Jesus, and His life, death, and of course His resurrection.  Look at the lily as a source of hope, and joy, planted years ago by God in a garden, and watered by the very tears of His son.  Tears He wept for you and for me, for He knew what was ahead for us, but also for Him, and He went voluntarily.  Look at Easter Sunday this year by looking to Jesus, and rather than having an Easter Carole, have a great day remembering Him by showing love to someone else.  Carols are fro Christmas anyway, another good time to remember Jesus.  Show your wife some special love today, a good practice for every day, and maybe send her a flower, but keep in mind there is no replacement for being there, so God sent Jesus.  What will you send today?

And if you have fallen from grace, Jesus still extends His open arms to you, “yes you can still be friends,” He never stopped loving you.  And if He tells you “we need to talk,” listen, as He has plans for you, for good things, not a break up, but for reconciliation.  At His expense.  Sure beats a walk home in the rain.  Ask for His forgiveness today, and accept Him into your life.  Lilies, gardens, the cross, and an empty tomb...all signs that God so loved the world.  And the evening His tears hit the ground for you, and how much He loves you.  Plant a lily of love today-foil wrapping optional.  I made $6.40 the day my heart broke, but I got it all back the day Jesus’ heart broke for me, and I let Him into mine.  Lilies, anyone?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com