what do bikers do on rainy days?

While I was asleep last night, the skies opened and it rained.  Not much, but a lot by So Cal standards.  And if it doesn’t clear up, it may be a day spent in a cage, taking the truck.  Now to someone who doesn’t ride that may be no big deal, but today that will mean no HOV lane for me, no lane splitting, and taking much longer to get where I am going.  Every other place I have lived drivers deal with the weather, rain and snow are no big things.  But not here, 5 drops hit the ground and it is like the roads become a stupid farm that just got its nourishment and stupid is in full bloom.  Those who would travel 80 on the freeway now do it at 45, cell phone still clutched in their hand so they can tell of their adventure.  Every commute will have a story to tell by the time they arrive at their destination, and soon the .01” of rain, mist on the windshield for most, will have turned into a torrential downpour, the record rain of the century, and they were barely alive making it to work.  “Wow,” their friends will exclaim,”that must have been scary,” and they will nod and agree, basking in their conquest of rain.  With Instagram photos to follow, and the rain of September 2016 will go down in history.  To be shared to the next generation, “wow, you were there, what was it really like?” 

But what do bikers do when it rains?  Either we cage it or we get wet.  And I have too many miles logged from riding in the rain.  Short trips I’ll take the truck, the 4 hours to clean up after just aren’t worth it.  But on any trip longer, with a short range forecast of rain, on go the rain suits, and off we ride.  Now rain suits provide an interesting form of security, it can be pouring out, face shield fogged, but inside you are dry and secure.  Can’t explain it, but it feels good after awhile.  And after a few miles, you become used to the conditions and ride with it.  Driving even more carefully so you don’t become Ms. SUV’s next Instagram hit, when they hit you.  Roads get slippery, it takes longer to stop, but most guys I know who ride, will ride in the rain.  No big deal.  But then there are the weather wusses. 

A man at church brags how he doesn’t ride below 60, too cold.  Chaps and leathers in the 60’s.  But his bike is always clean, the miles low, and he thinks he is a rider.  Think of him like Goldilocks, not to cool, not so hot either.  But as the Bible assures us, the rain will fall on the just and the unjust.  And into each life a little rain must fall.  Fortunately Jesus promises us “this too shall pass.”  And there is nothing like the sun breaking through after riding in the rain, taking off the rain suit and continuing on.  One such ride occurred across Oklahoma....

Flash floods are called flash floods become they happen in a flash, and turn low lying areas into flowing rivers.  I had been dodging rain across Arkansas and Missouri, when getting gas outside Clinton it was dark ahead.  Now I use any excuse to not put on my rain suit, and today was no exception.  But after getting back on I-40, and a Fed-Ex tractor trailer pulling doubles began to sway in the wind, I hit the next exit and on it went.  Feeling safe and secure and dry, I rode on, until the rain fell so hard I couldn’t see, so I got off.  Now the highway department has spent millions of dollars on signs to warn us, the key is obeying them.  That day I rode without the key, and at the first light, at a diagonal intersection, off camber, the sign said “DO NOT ENTER IF WATER RUNNING.”  So when the light turned red, and no traffic appeared, off I went.  Not taking into account why there was no traffic and why the sign was posted.  Halfway across I was up to the Triumph on my Tiger, some 36” off the ground.  Almost covering the pipe.  Up to my knees.  Now instinct tells you to stop, the same one that told you to go.  But don’t, on both.  And so I kept going, and made it across, only to find fast running water for the next mile or so.  Until the Route 66 Museum appeared, the lot filled with motorcycles, and I took a break.  I was safe, dry on the inside except for the heavy downpour of sweat, and alive to ride again later.  Which I did, the last 150 miles in high crosswinds, rain is safer, and the temp dropping some 30 degrees.  Both bike and rider were safe, we had weathered the storm, and sunshine never looked so good.  If only the wind wasn’t blowing...

In any storm, in any situation, we rarely know how long it will last.  Although I could see blue skies ahead, on the prairie they could be 100 miles away.  So it is important to deal with what we are confronted with first, then deal with later, later on.  Seeing the sun, I already had my rain suit off, and felt the 80 degree day warming me up, I just couldn’t see the wind.  But God did.  And so it is important to deal with first things first, and don’t wait too long to put on your rain suit, or look to take it off before the rain stops.  God has supplied us with what we need for each situation, it is up to us to use it.  When the sign says flooding, that should be enough for most, the signs are there for our safety.  By not obeying them we become members of the “I’ll show You I am Stupid Club,” sadly I still attend too many of their meetings.  But God provides way through the storms, not around them, and there are times to ride on, times to stop and rest, and times to take an alternate route.  All best dealt with in prayer as you are riding.  Situations and road conditions change, Jesus never does.  And when guided by his spirit, we will arrive, with the testimony of how he took us through the storm, a slightly different version than Ms. SUV’s harrowing experience.  And we must confess that with the spirit guiding us, even if it takes dragging us through kicking and screaming, we will make it to the other side. 

Remember Jesus telling his disciples how he would meet them on the other side?  And in the midst of the storm, when Peter obeyed Jesus and walked to him, after Jesus saved him, they were instantly on the other side.  Peter’s request, “Jesus save me!”  A two pronged prayer, for we must be saved from our sin, and saved from dangerous situations.  And in both cases we will meet Jesus on the other side, just like he said.  Heaven or our temporary destination.  Heaven, the other side.  Safe and secure after the storms of life.  Allowing us to look back and share how he saved us.  And when Jesus tells us we are saved by the word of our testimony and the blood of the lamb, he has done his part, are you sharing, are you doing yours?  It is a rare conversation the spirit doesn’t remind me of how he took me through a similiar one, and gives me a chance to share it.  Again, Jesus did his part...

So what do bikers do on rainy days?  Well this biker is getting out the maps, and planning next years trip.  When you cannot ride, plan.  When you cannot ride, pray.  Spend some time with the Lord, it is great while riding, but can be just as personal off the bike too.  Ask the Lord for planning strategies, let him guide your footsteps.  And be flexible in your planning, I still ride in the rain, the 4 hours cleaning up after can be better spent planning, or listening to the Lord.  He will meet us on the other side eventually, how we get there is our choice.  Make the right choice and follow the spirit.  And if it rains, put on your rain suit before the rain begins.  Putting it on over wet clothes is harder, don’t ask me how I know.  I just do.

So what do bikers do when it rains?  We get wet....but we still ride.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

if only my Grandma knew he raced motorcycles

My family was never into cars, they were transportation and nothing else.  So it seems ironic that through my Grandmother, who thought going the speed limit was too fast I should get introduced to racing.  She always bought her cars from Pat, the owner of Ronco Rambler.  He was about 10 years younger than her, and when she needed a car, she called Pat, he told her what she needed, and she went to the bank and brought him cash.  He also was the person she called when her car wouldn’t start, or she needed help.  She trusted him because he was trustworthy, and many a time I went by his dealership with her.  Pat always had overalls over his street clothes, a stogie hanging from his mouth, and had many things going on at once.  But it always seemed we ended up in the back of the garage, where his race cars were kept.  From 1953-1978 Pat tore up the Nazareth dirt tracks in R-12, a Nash, then a Rambler.  In these pre-Andretti days, he ruled the tracks, and his cars were my first experience with racing.  They were old jalopies to the untrained eye, to me they were cool.  Race cars.  And Pat always took time to tell me about them, a big deal to an 8 year old in an adult world.  I later found out Pat was also in the Indian Motorcycle Hall of Fame in Springfield, Massachusetts, he had won the AMA title for hillclimbs in 1937, if only my Grandma knew she was dealing with such a character of ill repute.  But he was cars to her, Nash and Rambler were the cars, and rain or snow, no matter the call, he answered when she called.  What I would give for one more trip back to Ronco Rambler and to see R-12, to smell the hi octane racing gas, he was a Sunoco dealer, sold 260 at the pump, to smell the grease and oil, to see the girly calendars in the office, and listen to Pat tell about racing.  At one time these shops were America, a far cry from the 53 technician Mercedes Benz dealership I used to work at.  Times change, but so do the people?

I first came upon Tom’s Pit Stop after it had moved across Route 22 to the east bound lane.  A small non-descript building, with a small driveway to exit or enter, the screech of brakes and tires was often heard just getting to the place.  Route 22 was the busiest road in the US of A at the time, and Tom’s was on it.  While others had SS396, Olds 442’s, or Mustangs, I had a 1969 BMW 1600, called the best sedan in the world and the car that put BMW on the map so all the yuppies could have one, not knowing how good a car they were at one time.  But Tom’s worked on all foreign cars, from Alfa, to Lotus, TVR’s, Austin Healeys, MG’s, and many other lesser brands.  Sports cars.  And we were welcome, as in most race oriented shops we were, and would stop by.  We were treated as equals, as equal as we could be, and talked cars.  A sort of Ronco Rambler for the sports car crowd, Tom tells of how he became a TVR dealer.  TVR’s were made in England by Trevor Wilkinson, a small, lightweight car with a fibreglass body.  And in the late sixties put a Ford 302 in them, making them the fastest thing around.  They weighed about 1500 pounds with a tubular frame, and Bouke had one, it would wheelie.   But as most sports cars of the time they spent too much time in the shop, which meant Tom’s.  But how he became a dealer was interesting.  He had a reputation in racing, and had helped a man who owned one.  It later turned out he was the US distributor, and showed up one day with serial number 001, Vixen, a new car.  Tom bought it, became a dealer, and the man went out and hitchhiked back to Long Island.  He later took on Lotus, insuring his service department would always be busy.  We need more Tom’s out there....

Like when my Dad who didn’t like cars bought a BMW from Markham Motors.  His car was always referred to as Mr. Mohn’s car, never needing any further description.  And Charley Markham gave me a ride once in a new 1974 Mercedes Benz 450SL, and went over 100 mph in it.  If only my father knew...but I am sure these businesses are still out there, and I always seem to find one or two when on a road trip.

Last week was Coronado Speed Week at North Island.  A huge car show of cars I remember from Tom’s.  Anything from retired NASCAR racers, to Trans Am Mustangs, open wheeled race cars, sports cars, Porsches, and vintage pre-WWII cars.  But to me the show was on the track, as all day the races went off every 20 minutes.  With the best yet to come after lunch, wandering through the pits.  Already intoxicated by the smell of racing fuel, Castrol Racing Castor, and burning rubber, the pits took me back 45 years.  Seeing the cars being prepped for the next race, watching as the comraderie between racers took place, and seeing how it used to be, I found it still was.  The racing was great, the cars better, but for me life was in the pits.  And as I stopped to look at Offenhauser engines, vintage racing Porsches and Corvettes, real NASCAR race cars that were stock, the SC in NASCAR stands for Stock Car, and seeing things I only read about, they were still there.  And what a rush when a man let me sit in his 1916 National racer, and work the clutch.  The wooden wheel worn smooth, it was as if it was polished.  What a car.....and the last race was the open class for Trans Am racers, with all cars older than 1979.  As the cars passed me the names of Jerry Titus, Parnelli Jones, Dan Gurney, and many others flashed before me.  And for one brief moment, I was back at Tom’s, a kid at Pat’s and all was right with the world.  I wonder how many friends or business associates, let alone customers of these gentlemen racing knew of their dubious background?  Men that never grew up as they got older...not any faster, yet still racing.

After the crucifixion of Jesus we have two men come into the picture, strangers to each other.  Maybe they knew of each other, but that day they would form a bond and become a team of sorts.  With much to lose, in fact everything for what they were about to do.  Nicodemus as we find in John 3 is told by Jesus he must be born again to enter the kingdom of God.  He questions it from a physical perspective, and some 20 chapters later shows up to claim the body of Jesus.  Buying the expensive embalming spices, he is about to risk everything, social, financial, and spiritual to claim the body.  Even willing to touch it, which was a huge sin among the Jews, you didn’t touch anything, let anyone dead.  But his spirit had been touched, he had become born again, and knew what he was to do.  And nothing else mattered to him, but his Lord and Savior.  But who should he meet there, but one Joseph of Arimithea, a rich man who owned an unused tomb.  Described as a silent Christian, he would meet Nicky, and the two would have to trust each other.  For they both had much to lose, but in the spirit they had everything to gain.  Two silent Christians, who when the spirit called responded, and were blessed.  A few verses in the gospel, and today their legacy lives on.  The legacy of silent Christians. 

Now it is easy to boast for some of how they live for Christ, and love the adulation.  But harder, or so it would seem for many to live quiet peaceful lives with Jesus.  It is in them we find a strength, a vessel in which the spirit lives, and they don’t have to brag, for God knows.  Just like Pat they take the time for what is needed, it is who they are, and how they are.  Meeting needs without considering the potential outcomes.  If it needs fixing, fix it, like he did, still in late seventies starting my Grandma’s car in the bitter cold.  How many late dinners or cold meals Pat had was never recorded, he was a friend to all in need.  Tom in his own way took in those of us not normal, who drove sports cars, who didn’t mind the smell of grease and oil, and whose handshake, when needed was his bond.  To both men, their yes meant yes, more than any other form of contact.

And so it was with Nick and Joe, who formed a contact and a contract with Jesus, after his death.  Via the spirit, the same as us.  Maybe an example we overlook, while we are too busy with church business, raising funds, or attending studies.  For them the show is what counts, for those in the spirit it is all about Jesus.  It is a relationship that goes beyond words, it is like the smells and race cars of last weekend, one of memories you wish you could live again, but know they were for a certain place in time.  And Jesus makes himself available today, for that could be the time you meet him.  Nick and Joe came for the body, via the spirit, the same is true today.  The empty tomb proving Jesus is who he says he is, but it is the spirit that gives life.  Nick and Joe knew, do you? 

God gives us all the opportunities everyday to be like Pat or Tom, to help those in need.  Or even like Nick and Joe, but it is the spirit driving us.  And doing it to the least, knowing you are doing it for Jesus, to Jesus.  Many are competitors on the track of life, but when needed give all if needed.  A small thing to those giving, a big thing to those receiving.  One day at the races took me back 50 years and reminded me of the life Jesus has given me.  My Grandma knew to call Pat, who do you call?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

if the Brits speak English, what do we Colonists speak?

The joke goes of a man being interviewed for a job at 7-11.  “Do you speak any foreign languages?”  he is asked.  “Yes, English...” My mother used to tell me “anything is easy if you know how to do it,”  and I can add to that, anyone who knows more than me sounds smarter.  And some of the smartest people I know agree with me.  I hope you are among them.  Yet you can be the smartest man in the room, and be humbled when getting your car fixed.  While at Mercedes Benz, I had a customer Dr. Francis Crick, you may not know the name, but he is more famous than Dr. Oz.  He is the man who discovered DNA.  Yet when he and his wife would pick up their car, and he asked what I did, he would them wave me off, “tell my wife, I don’t understand these car things.”  And I’m thinking “Dude you discovered DNA, your car needed brakes...”  all they understood was a light came on and they brought the car in.  And how much it cost.  Maybe I need to change my philosophy on brains.

When I used to deal with Ivan Stewart of Off Road fame, The Ironman, he once was underneath one of is trucks, and asked me to hand him a wrench.  “What size Ivan?”  “I don’t care, I’m gonna use it for a hammer.”  Or a fine tuning adjustment device as my old friend Brett used to call it.  It seems although we all speak the same language, or do we, that the nomenclature, try to use that word today, is different for each situation, and each group of people.  I love the old song “409,” but how many know what a 409 is?  Or a dual quad, posi-traction, 409?  Yet anyone gear head readily knows.  When I am around car guys, we talk “what’ll she do?” “how many cubes?”  We have our own language that we speak, and to any outsider it may seem foreign, to us it isn’t.  But picture this if you can, in America the official language is English.  But not to an Englishman, who refers to us as Bloody Colonists, and our language is brutish, not the Queen’s English.  For example...

If your battery goes dead across the pond, you have a problem with your accumulator.  Which may be found under the bonnet, the hood, or in the boot, the trunk.  “My bloody accumulator is in the boot mate.”  Now in English...  Spanners are wrenches, drophead coupes are convertibles, they get on the binders, the brakes, and mum picks up her kids in a shooting brake, a station wagon.  And even a gallon is not the same, it is Imperial, or 5 quarts, US.  Petrol, not gas.  Horns are Klaxons, spending a night in a saloon is a 4 door sedan not a bar, which is a pub, which is different.  You can use a spanner to tighten your trunnion, a wrench to tighten your suspension, keep a mole wrench handy, vice grips, while keeping an eye out for Artic lories on the roundabout, semis in the intersection. So you may speak English, but do you really?  All this talking has made me have to go to the loo...men’s room.

So in each language, each job, each hobby, and each group of people there is a language within itself.  Maybe the interview at 7-11 was more difficult than you think.  But as Christians, we have terms and phrases that we use when talking with each other, that may seem foreign to an outsider.  And we need to be careful when explaining things lest we confuse them, or get confused ourselves.  We talk of being lost and needing a savior, to make atonement for our sins.  We need to confess our sins, repent and be born again.  All terms any Christian should be familiar with, but in the world what do they mean?  We talk about faith and sharing the gospel, how we are saved grace and become holy, that if we invite Jesus into our heart he shows mercy, and we are redeemed, and found righteous before God.  And how we need to be in the word, but not in the world.  Wait, I thought the gospel was simple?  It is isn’t it?  What’s under your bonnet? 

That is why the holy spirit changes hearts, and leads us to Jesus.  We argue, try to explain something infinite in finite terms and come up short.  And often make the person we are sharing with feel uncomfortable.  We are not trying to win an argument, or show how much we know, but see a soul saved by showing who we know in love.  That just might change your whole perspective...maybe what we have here is a failure to communicate.  But in all cases show love, compassion, and let the fruit of the spirit be evident.  People are not as stupid as we hope they are, and when love is displayed to them, when the spirit intervenes, suddenly the words make sense.  We see a heart changed, a soul saved, and the person become born again.  When we rely on the spirit and not lean on our own understanding, we see Jesus in action.  The words come to life, the mysteries of the Bible suddenly aren’t so mysterious, and we find out the difference between lost and saved, just being sorry and repenting.  We show the gospel is good news, that Jesus loves us, and that grace is a gift, not another test in life to fail.  We are to be in the word, so the word can be in us, and although we live in the world, we are separate.  Words and terms that sound foreign but that the spirit gives life to.  We may not understand, but we know something different is going on inside us that is supernatural.  We begin to see things through the eyes of God, instead of through our own eyes.  We then begin to forgive others as we have been forgiven, to show mercy and not revenge.  We don’t try to win any arguments, we show love instead.  We don’t interrogate, we listen and try to answer as the spirit gives us the words needed.  You may think you are smart, Nicodemus was, but yet it took the holy spirit to reveal to him what being born again was.  And how to be saved.  And why Jesus is the savior promised in scripture.  And so God made the gospel simple so we can get it, free so we can afford it.  We messed up, we need to be reunited with God.  Jesus is the way.  Ask any 5 year old in Sunday school, and they will tell you “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so.”  Now abut that foreign language...

Maybe my mother was right, it is easy if you know.  And I know Jesus, and he knows me.  In any crowd he can pick me out, and say hello to me.  Under a truck, he knows just the right spanner/wrench to fix the problem.  He knows what to look for under your bonnet, and may be being kept in your boot and you’re not knowing it.  Open up the boot to your heart and let him in.  Spend a day in your saloon with him.  Open up to the spirit and see what he has to say to you.  For Jesus left us with one language we all can speak, and all can understand, love.  Speak some today, invite someone to join in, let the spirit guide you.  For we all were once lost, it took the spirit to reveal it to us and point us to Jesus.  All the time the what you were looking for was really as who.  Don’t let his language of love be foreign to you.  For just like when your time came to buy your 409, today is that day of salvation.  Let me welcome you to the family.  That pinking noise just may be the spirit knocking...

Now if the Brits drive on the right side of the road, does that mean we Colonists drive on the wrong?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com 

 

VEGAS-Chevy or Las?

It was Motor Trend’s Car of the Year, proving what they were forced to admit later, ad dollars speak louder than reporting integrity.  It was to be Chevy’s new car, and to have a revolutionary new engine design, even the ads touted Reynolds Aluminum in the ads.  But then there was the car, Jim Castro had one, a blue 1971 hatchback, blue.  That always smelled like bad meat.  Which one Sunday when we took off the door panel to install speakers with his 8-track, we found remains of a sandwich hanging inside the driver’s door.  Confirming the urban legend about assembly line workers, who were bored or upset leaving a screw loose in a panel to roll around on turns, the legend of the Monday built car.  My brother Nicky had one, a burnt green/brownish color, the basic two door sedan with Powerglide.  A two speed automatic that either shifted too early, or too late, but shook and vibrated no matter what.  A different vibration than the one telling you the engine was out of oil, just before the warning light came on.  “Fill the oil, and check the gas please,”  was said by many of its owners.  And one time while following him, we passed and risked getting lost rather than endure all the oil leaking and covering us.  It either leaked it, marking it spot ala Harley or a hound dog, or burned it up, either way miles per gallon was secondary to miles per quart, of oil that is.  But Christo had one, a brown with white stripes, wide oval tires, and it ran fine, although he was always working on it.  What are we talking about?  The new 1971 Chevrolet Vega, the competition to the Ford Pinto and Chrysler’s Simca, another French joke better left untold.  From a company that gave us SS396’s, Olds 442’s, Buick Wildcats, and the great Cadillacs, they also gave us this turkey.  And every time I see the “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” ad I think of Jim’s car, for what happened in that Vega stayed in that Vega.  Choose your own Vegas, Chevy or Las?

They even came out, over budget and years too late with a Cosworth model, a twin cam overhead engine.  And for the price of a Corvette at the time, you could have a Vega.  Which in GM’s logic soon became a badge engineered Sunbird, or morphed into a Monza.  Same car, different name, and they sold thousands.  And we wonder how the one time great General Motors, who once was going to be broken up because they sold almost 50% of all cars sold in the US of A could fall so far, and today we have Government Motors, selling a total of less than Chevy alone used to sell.  Who said the Obama administration hasn’t accomplished anything?  But the Vega soldiered on for over 5 years, new engines were replaced under warranty, if you could wait after convincing Chevy you really needed one, and the rest of the car didn’t rust apart around you.  It was supposed to be the car of the seventies, and it turned out exactly being that.  If you could ever safely get it up to that speed....

But somewhere out there are the Vegas, and like the Pinto, they are nowhere to be found.  Maybe a thank you is in order for whoever or whatever removed them from the roads or our memories, just add this to the lore of GM, who took an unknown lawyer, who didn’t have a license, who wrote book bad mouthing the Corvair, and who when they assigned private investigators to follow him, was made into a best seller when they got caught. Ralph Nader.  Just a few years before the Vega, no one has fessed up to that one yet....

But today with disposable cars from Japan, Korea, and other parts of the world, it is hard to not see that even cars 10-15 years old are missing, except in So Cal where the weather enables them to outlive their usefulness.  We have become a disposable society, which in some ways is coming around.  As kids we scoured the lots for empty bottles, turning them in for deposits.  Then the one way bottle came out, that now has a deposit on it.  No deposit, no return, just like some people live their lives.  Live for today, for there is no tomorrow.  Party hearty for tomorrow we may die.  With no concept of the reality they live in.  Like product cycles, we have life cycles, that only after we go on to the next stage do we appreciate the ones behind.  And we find that we wish we had taken better care of ourselves if we knew we were going to live this long.  Bottles and cans and cars may be throwaway, or recyclable, but lives aren’t.  And often damage done early can lead to long time injuries.  Just how important is your reputation?  The legacy you leave behind?  What is your life style telling others?  Some profess “live like hell and you’ll go there.”  Not considering hell is a real place.  They ditz on Jesus, make fun of those who believe, even denying Christ in their religion, but deny making the same choice they made when buying their cars.  A price to be paid, and just because the payments stop doesn’t mean the maintenance does.  Some admit to debauchery, but “hey I’ve outlived many who were worse,”  not seeing the patience of a loving God.  They joke of hell, worship the devil, make Halloween a holiday, and curse God.  Not knowing that hell is real, and Jesus saying if it were not he would tell you so.

Hell was not made for man, but for the fallen angels and demons.  Yet on the day Adam and Eve sinned, and sin entered the world, all who have been born are born into it, falling short of the glory of God.  The laws couldn’t save them, or even reunite man to him.  So he sent Jesus.  The gospel to reunite us and forgive us.  So we don’t have to go to hell.  God doesn’t send anyone to hell, Jesus came to rescue us from it.  But it is a choice we get to make, for love demands a choice, not being forced on us.  You cannot legislate love.  And God has sent his spirit to remind you until the day that you die that you need Jesus, and how much he loves you.  That you are not forgotten, not a throw away, but that Jesus is the way. 

Today many flock to Vegas, to become themselves, to shed their inner inhibitions.  Even billing it as a family place for vacation.  The two week trip may end, but how many lives are ruined?  Sin City it is proudly referred to, and in the saying, “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas” having some Biblical truth.  For once you are in hell, you stay in hell.  No release, no relief.  The gates don’t keep you out, only Jesus keeps you out, the gates keep you in.  Forever, weeping and gnashing of teeth, unbelievable pain and torment, complete darkness, and loneliness for ever.  God gave you your desire, to be separate from him...and you got it.  And it’s too late.  But not today...

Today you can trade the Vegas life, or the Vega you have been driving for Jesus.  He accepts trades, all qualify, condition isn’t important, and you can be born again.  Assuring heaven, and eternal life.  Forgoing eternal torment.  Vegas and Vegas will both let us down, only Jesus never will.  Today is the day of salvation, for some the day of eternal damnation.  You decide, the choice is yours.  Trust him today before your oil light comes on and you seize up and die.  That loose nut in the car just might be you, don’t end up in a door panel stinking.  Now that you know the truth, wouldn’t you really rather have a Simca?  Happy now Bruce?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com