why opinions are like Harleys

A wise man once uttered these words “if I want your opinion I’ll give it to you.”  He must have had teenagers.  But today we spend way too much time weighing in on subjects from UFO’s to Elvis, and never let the facts make an impact.  My take on UFO’s are, if you don’t what it is, it is unidentified.  And if it is in the air, it is a flying object.  As for Elvis, “thank you, thank you very much.”  He is still my Teddy Bear.  But we get confused and voice opinions over factual matters, and when in the automotive industry, the surveys could make or break us.  You may have fixed every concern a customer had, but he had to wait to get his car, and would give you a bad review.  Which matters so much within the business that the sales of dealerships is affected by their CSI score, customer survey index.  A superior effort by a trained tech can be obliterated by a minimum wage lot boy, just because.  And as a service advisor/manager I took my share of beatings.

Management, who didn’t have much contact with the customers unless they had a complaint, was adament about follow up phone calls.  I refused to be a CSI score whore, begging for a good report.  I always felt and was backed up by the fact we fixed cars, and people too.  But in both cases you couldn’t fix stupid, you only hoped they didn’t spend an hour completing the survey, getting their revenge through it.  But a funny, not ha-ha thing would happen.  I was given more than my fair share of problem cars and people.  And as we worked through the problems, we built a relationship, a trust was formed, and I was able to fix the car, and them.  And build a life long customer, along with a reputation for fixing problems, which is what the service department does.  Or at least is supposed to.  We didn’t design them, we didn’t build them, and we didn’t sell them.  We just tried to remedy the previous steps and make it right.  To do the right thing.  How many car sales are salvaged by a good service department needs to be investigated.  We may have sold more cars than the sales staff, just by fixing the problem.  And so a CSI score may be more indicative of opinions than facts.  And opinions are like Harleys, everyone has one.  And 95% of them are still on the road, the other 5% made it home.  I rest my case.  Of course that’s my opinion...

But who rates the rating companies?  Who does J. D. Power report too?    I have never seen, nor know anyone who has been asked that question.  And this inquiring mind wants to know, for I have an opinion, and some facts they need to hear, my opinion anyway.  Do they survey the questions on the form before asking?  And how about those phone calls while eating.  Did I interrupt your meal?  No, I had to get up to answer the phone anyway.  Do they ask you after a funeral how you feel about death?  Or after a divorce how you feel about marriage?  So why ask about a car repair after it was broken, and hopefully fixed?  Or is it like the form I signed when closing on our last house, my signature proving my signature was my signature.  Are the inmates running the asylum, or are they all working for the government?  I hear they have a 15% approval rating, but get re elected.  Is that how we vote?  Our survey?

I read that car theft is going down, yet my rates go up. And if my car is stolen it is 100% at my house.  Or is it 50% since I have two cars?  Maybe life is like Yogi Berra once said, “90% mental and the other half physical.”  Maybe it is like the opposite of half slow, half fast.

Last night at our Bible study we discussed those who claim to know the time and date of the rapture.  And most thought it was funny, those who predicted and believed it had a screw loose, and were dumb.  No official polls were taken.  But none were really sure what they believed, but wanted to make sure they weren’t left behind.  Imagine if you would a survey by Mr. Power after death.  I am sure the opinions would be different from hell than they are for heaven.  Were you happy with the result?  Did you get all the preacher promised?  Were you ready to go when promised?  Would you recommend this trip to another?  Of course this is made up, but we do have a say, not an opinion, but to deal with the truth and facts while still alive.  To live life without a survey, to deal with reality, and its consequences.  To know Jesus and be saved, or deny him and be lost.  To brag on your church, or on Jesus.  Is overall attendance more important than the individual?  Jesus would have died for each one of us if we were the only sinner.  Are you getting a Christian education or having a Christian experience?  Are the words of Jesus just red letters on a page, or are they written on your heart?  Notice God never asks for our opinion...nor does he survey us.  As if he didn’t know already.

So when Paul writes to the Corinthians in fear and trembling, not using big words but ones they can understand, he realizes it is not about human power or our persuasiveness, but about the holy spirit giving us words and him changing lives.  He points everything back to Jesus, just like the spirit does, and Jesus then points everything back to his father in heaven.  Not what do you think about the pastor’s teaching, but what has the spirit revealed to you?  When we are honest, and share our testimony we have great power, but it is still the spirit that changes lives, that saves.  Only Jesus can do that, fact, not opinion.  So it does matter what you believe and in whom you believe.  Maybe as simple as the blind man he healed, “I don’t know if he is good or bad, all I know is I was blind and now I can see.”  No great theology there, no verse memorization, no opinion.  Just the facts, long before Joe Friday made the statement trendy.  Mam.

So it is not what you think that saves, but who you know.  Yet many still only will admit Jesus was a great teacher, a rabbi, a profit, neglecting he is deity.  And the only way to be saved.  Only Jesus saves, leave your opinions for the side of the road with your Harley.  For Paul on the road to Damascus knew immediately who Jesus was, and what he needed to be saved.  Imagine if he was asked to fill out a questionaire, “how was your experience on the side of the road?”  “How was his presentation?”  “Did you feel welcomed?”  “Any recommendations on how we can improve our service?”   How you live your life may be the best survey of Jesus you ever take.  And the survey says....

By the way Mrs. Lincoln, what did you think of the play?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

thanks for the memories

Ann was a very attractive woman who used to bring in her husband’s Mercedes Benz.  She had had a double mastectomy, and she and a friend who had the same would come by with her to pick it up.  She was better about her surgery than I would have been, and they would joke about “going topless,”  and I would shake my head and blush.  But one day she came by in her new SL500 her husband bought her, with her friend along as usual.  Top down, she called across the lot “look Mike, we’re going topless,” as every male head within earshot turned.  All I could do is smile, and blush again, and laugh, for I knew the joke.  Thanks Ann for the memory. 

Mrs. Levy would also bring in her husband’s SL 500, and one time told me to call him if it needed anything, and left me a number.  When I called the number to get the OK to replace his brake pads, she answered.  “Can I talk to your husband?”  “Not right now Mike, he’s in surgery.”  “What happened, is he OK?” was my startled reply.  And she began to laugh, “yes Mike, I hope so, I guess you didn’t know he’s a surgeon.”  Again a joke between two people that meant nothing to anyone else. 

Mark Kotsay, outfielder for the Padres, and then the A’s, loved to ride motorcycles.  And while others wanted to talk baseball, we talked motorcycles.  And about how someday we were going to take a ride together.  But one day after being traded, he stopped in with his manager from the A’s, and I showed him a new Triumph I had, and offered him a ride on it.  With a look from his manager that said more than his words.  “Can’t Mike, my contract won’t allow it,” and his manager agreed.  He couldn’t even sit on it.  And you could tell it hurt, but such is the price of fame and fortune.  Next time, don’t bring your boss.

When I met Barney Li all we had in common was his broken Mercedes Benz.  But when we found out we both rode, that all changed.  Barney had sold his car care products company, and was enjoying the wealth it brought, taking cross country rides with celebrities.  Many a time he would call and tell me of a ride he had done, or was going to do, and we agreed someday we would together.  I lost touch with him after leaving MB and going to Land Rover, until one day his wife brought her car in, and immediately called him, “Mike is at Land Rover.”  And a half hour later he was there, with two new bikes in his truck, and we did some catching up.  He was excited as he was trying to revive the Vincent name for a motorcycle he was building, and we promised to keep in touch.  A few months later I read how he died in a single bike crash outside St. Johns, Arizona.  I know the road, I knew Barney.  I still have the Vincent hat he gave me, to remind me of his friendship, but also of a ride we never got to take. 

“A crazy old Chinaman” was how Weston described himself.  Add hornery and you are more accurate.  But we hit it off, and although rich, famous, and a mover and shaker in the collector car world, every year he was a hit at Pebble Beach, we became friends.  On his many trips to Hawaii, his wife, Mama he called her, always brought me macadamia candy, she knew my wife liked them.  And even when he got throat cancer and couldn’t talk, and wouldn’t see visitors, his son told me to call him, he was asking about me.  I had lost my job at Land Rover, and he wanted to sue them for firing me.  And offered to buy a Lexus dealer in San Clemente for me.  I had called him to minister to him, he was concerned for me, we went deeper than I had thought.  He was concerned for me, and when I tell others who knew him that story, they shake their heads, “that wasn’t Weston.”  But it was to me...and I would love to have one more conversation/argument with him.  And some macadamias from Mama.....a friend I miss.

Our lives are all about relationships, and for a Samaritan woman at the well one day her life would change.  Jews were forbidden to have contact with Samaritans, they were half breeds, but this day a Jewish man would change her life.  When Jesus met her at the well, he told her about her numerous husbands, and how she was living with a man now not her husband.  She at first thought him to be a seer, a fortune teller, but something was different about him.  He had crossed over the line, taking the gospel to another who wasn’t Jewish.  And the Jews thought the savior was just for them.  Here we have maybe the first instance of Jesus’ later words of taking the gospel from Jerusalem, to Judea, then Samaria, and to the outer parts.  We often think of the locations, but forget the people there.  And how the gospel was made for all, for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.  For the Jew first, then the Gentile, we are told.  And God even in his wisdom, when the Jews rejected Jesus, sent the gospel to the Gentiles, making the Jews jealous, “the savior was for us.”  And recognizing who Jesus was, because of his love for others besides them.  The gospel became personal that day, and leaving the well had taken on water she never knew existed, the holy spirit.  And she would never thirst again, for she had met her savior.  And every time she needed a spiritual drink, she would know where to turn.  And those of us who know Jesus know just where to turn.  But do we?  Has our relationship with him mostly memories, wondering how he is doing?  Where he went?  When it is us who left, and he knows how we are doing.  And is standing by with a Big Gulp of the spirit to refresh us.  And he is found everywhere you look, you may not be looking at things correctly.

You see he is the joy of Ann going topless, top down in her new convertible, he is freedom from the law that kept Mark from riding when his heart so desired it.  He was the great physician in surgery when we call, and has the time to listen.  And update on the surgery.  He is a friend from another level of society, who we can share a commonality with like I did with Barney.  And of dreams of roads yet to ride with him.  And he is a crazy man to those who don’t get to know him personally, who every time you praise and worship him he turns it back to you in love.  He is that personal, and in our daily routines, with those we meet, we can see him, and he is available.  A well that never runs dry...

We are never told the outcome of how the man who was rescued by the good Samaritan turns out.  All we know is that he was cared for by a man who took the time to see his needs, and stepped across religious barriers to meet them.  For some of us he stopped and offered a drink.  To others he took us in and nursed us back to health.  Some were hungry, and he fed us.  Some were lonely and were without a friend, and he became one unconditionally.  He still visits those in hospitals, hasn’t forgotten those in jail, and even hasn’t forgotten you, no matter how busy you are.  And he leaves us in Matthew 25 with a short message to remember him by, “whatever you do to the least of these you are doing to me.”  I’m sure the woman at the well would agree, can you say the same?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

gone in 120 seconds

My friend Lassie used to play the horses.  Rather he was a professional handicapper, who made his living betting on horses, hoping they would win.  Like any bettor, he had his own system, and he lived OK by betting on second place, the first loser.  Not sure how or why he came up with it, but he drove a cool car at the time, had his own place while we still bunked at our parents, and acted like the young man of the world he was.  Or at least we thought he was.  But since I was never a bettor, I never lost, and I will put my record up against anyone’s, not for a wager of course.  But one thing he told us, and proved to us one night, was when playing the trotters, bet on who is in the sulky.  Or in earth terms, bet on the jockey, as trotters pulled a little wagon behind them where jockeys sat, the sulky.  And at the end of each race, the winner was announced with “...in the sulky...” following.  And one night to prove it, we picked winners in all ten races at Pompano Park, and won eight, based on his skills.  without losing a dime, or making one either, we picked the winner, we never placed the bet.

Just out of high school we used to play the football pool one of the truckers brought by.  You had to not only pick the winner, but beat the point spread also.  Yes it was illegal, but everyone played, or so it seems.  Also popular was putting a dime, literally 10 cents on a three digit number, to win a pot, the three digit number the last three numbers of the attendance at Aquaduct, a local race track for horse.  How many bets I saw placed by men on the phone, based on stock numbers from boxes, phone numbers, the time, or any other number they felt lucky.  Wednesday nights or Sunday afternoons at Raceway Park had a whole section where men would bet on each race, taking lane one or lane two.  The winner grabbing the cash, then laying it down again seconds later for the next drag race.  New York City even has off track betting, where you can bet and not go to the track.  Competing against the bookies, if you can’t beat them join them.  So betting to win, whether it is first or second place, whether on the horse or jockey, and seeing a lucky number, men have always felt compelled to bet to win, many times not considering the cost if they lose.

Now I don’t bet, money that is, but every Sunday I pick a team in each NFL game that I think will win.  With one local team in particular, my favorite.  The Chargers.  The team that can snatch defeat from the jaws of victory.  Who can lose a game in the last 120 seconds, a different way each week.  And last year, while they went 4-12, I was 12-4.  How?  I bet against them, that they would lose.  My own system, and obviously one that works, as I am 3-1 so far this year also.  Despite all the Philip River hoopla, his stats, and $17 million a year salary, he loses the game, and I win the bet.  It takes more than stats to win a game, and some put up lousy stats, but win.  Look at Peyton in last years Super Bowl.  Teams win, as Michael Jordan used to say, he missed hundreds of last second shots, and his team lost.  They only remember that one, not the others during the game.  So we are obsessed with records, stats, who wins,who made the last shot, and who the Chargers are going to lose to next week.  Hint-bet on the Raiders, the Chargers are in Oakland next week.  And despite their losing record, poor organization and running out of excuses, they want us to build a billion dollar stadium for them!  Any bets on that one?

Yet with life, as in betting, many have their own systems they play by or live by.  A code we call it, a belief system, and many times it doesn’t include God.  A man once told me I had an easy ministry because I deal with people living on the edge, who are down and out, and know that Jesus can save them.  He deals with rich people, “how do you explain to a rich man with 3 cars, 2 motorcycles, a vacation home, and a college fund he needs Jesus?  That although he is rich he is really poor?”  My answer differs, as I explain that poor people think all rich people go to hell, based on the rich man and Lazarus.  They heard it somewhere.  And all poor go to heaven.  I have to explain that only the saved go to heaven, all others go to hell.  No amount of money or poverty can sway Jesus, only a change of heart.  A change brought about by the holy spirit, the common denominator of all who are saved.  For he called them to Christ, and is still calling today.  And unlike betting at the track, with Jesus long shots do come in, like Paul, the 12 apostles, and even those us us who society thought not worthy.  They may live the life here, but eternity is along time, and each day gets longer.  So today God offers salvation to the sinner, via his son.  That thought telling you to consider Jesus is the spirit calling to you.  I bet on Jesus, the only sure bet.  Where are you betting your soul on?

Consider stats for a moment.  Being successful 30% of the time, a batting average of .300 may get you into the Hall of Fame.  So will passing for 300 yards per game over your career.  But yesterday during the Chargers-Saints game, Drew Brees vs. Philip Rivers, one stat stuck out.  Both have Hall of Fame stats and careers, only Brees has the ring, the Super Bowl ring.  He has been in the game and won.  Rivers will never get there....and we all play to win, for that upward goal.  Christians play for heaven and Jesus, who are you betting on? 

With 4:50 second left yesterday, I almost lost hope in the Chargers.  They were ahead by 13 points and had the ball.  Two fumbles, another bad snap, and an interception, and the Saints won the game.  Only a game you say?  Ask those who played?  Ask a saint about Jesus, and it is more than a game, it is life.  You may be winning in life today, you don’t know what can happen in the last two minutes.  Unless you are a Charger fan....victory gone in 120 seconds, I will stand by 3-1 record.  And on salvation in Jesus Christ.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

too fast to live, too young to die, bye bye

I have been to the spot many times.  Many times, but a few years back decided to stop.  Not quite what I expected, but then I wasn’t sure what I expected either.  Tucked away but still in view from the road, harder to see at 80 than at the posted speed, it sits.  The day we stopped it was cold and windy, and the place was a mess.  Unkempt is a better description, and it looked like it just wasn’t the wind that did it.  And it was almost bizarre, it was supposed to be a memorial, yet it didn’t bring back any memories of what I had read about the man.  Isn’t that what a memorial is supposed to do?  But there it sits, subsidized by a Japanese group no less, to the King of Cool.  No not McQueen, he was still a few years away, but to a young actor who died before his last picture was released, another racer who acted, who rode Triumphs, smoked Lucky’s, and raced Porsches.  In case you haven’t guessed the name of this famous Indiana born man, his name was, and probably still is, James Dean.  And on this day in 1955, September 30, he died in a bloody car crash.  Like the Eagles song, “you were to fast to live, to young to die, bye bye.” 

On our last trip through the Indiana countryside, we visited the house where he was born.  Nothing cool about it, or where it was, just a farm house in the community of Fairmount, Indiana.  He was marginally famous, he was the “Rebel Without a Cause,” and his chopped Merc was more recognizable.  Just 24, he was young, talented, and had a bright future ahead, had just completed his third film with Elizabeth Taylor and Rock Hudson, what he didn’t know was what lied ahead.  A young college student in a 1950 Ford, Donald Turnupseed, pulled in front of him, and Dean driving his Porsche, never saw him, the afternoon sun was blinding him, and he t-boned him, killing him instantly.  He had just fueled up at a station in Blackwells Corners, where the memorial stands today, and even the roads are different now.  State Highway 41 is still there, the site of the memorial, but State Road 446 is now 46, and has been rerouted.  How many times we have taken the road from Paso Robles to Tulare, going on either road at the intersection, and each time thinking of his crash.  An intersection I always drive extra carefully, just in case.  Dean was the only fatality, both Turnupseed and Dean’s mechanic who was riding with him survived.  How would you like to have a last name of Turnupseed and live your life knowing you killed a legend?

And the Porsche also maintains a special enigma around its demise, as as it passed from owner to owner, and was put on public display, to warn of driving too fast, all crashes happen at zero miles per hour, the speed getting them to the impact is the contributing factor, and was lost for awhile.  Mystery surrounding it, and stories, some verified, some lore, about those who became connected with it had similar bad fates.  Then mysteriously disappeared for 55 years, and may have recently surfaced again.  Believe what you will, and we will, the whole story and tragic ending is one made for Hollywood, so sad they never stepped up and built the memorial. 

Just like the day you were born, the day you die is a mystery to you.  You have no control over either, but you do of the days in between.  Looking back we can ask “why didn’t he go another way?”  “What if he was going slower?  Faster?  What if Turnupseed had hesitated for a moment?  What if Jimmy had gone back for a Coke, or to smoke another Lucky?”  The what ifs continue, and not just in history or legends, but in our lives too.  What if I hadn’t made a trip to California when I did?  And not met John, not run on the beach in Venice?  What if I hadn’t lived behind Brennan, gone to high school with him, worked at Sears with him?  What if one of those events hadn’t happened, would I still be saved?  Would I know Jesus?  We can dream, make up scenarios, and some even try to change history, but the fact is all are true, and they happened as planned by God, way back in the beginning.  His plans for you are for you, by him.  tough times, good times, times of rides that never end, rides that end up being life flighted.  Rides alone, rides with the ones you love.  And rides you choose to take with God, by his spirit, with Jesus Christ, his son. 

Romans 8 pretty well covers what came separate us from that love.  Nothing.  Shall trouble, persecution, hardship, famine, nakedness, or peril of sword separate from the love of God?  What about supernatural forces, but Paul emphasizes nothing can separate us from his love.  And for those who are saved, we will enjoy heaven eternally with him, for we will be eternally in his presence.  Yet some forget we are now also, and in the midst of a trial forget that if God is for us, who can be against us?  And that all things work together for those who love the Lord and are called according to his purpose.  His purpose, is Jesus Christ, whom he sent to save you, to reunite us with him after Adam’s sin.  Tough times remind us of how he is with us, and the good times following remind us of our salvation, if they hadn’t worked together, we are not called according to his purpose, and deny Jesus.  Sometimes in the midst of despair we need reminding, we don’t know when the trial will end, but we persevere.  We hang in there.  And we love God because of what he did for us, how he took us through.  And maybe repent of how we had to be dragged kicking and screaming.  His love is greater than all evils, and anything the world can throw at it.  Nothing can separate us form the love of the Lord.  Nothing.

So what about James Dean? The answer is I don’t know, he is best remembered sadly for his crash, his movies, his race car.  His motorcycle.  But maybe his last PSA, public service announcement may serve as a warning to us all.  In it he talks of safe driving, and tells us “be careful out there, the life you save may be mine.”  Adlibbed from “the life you save may be your own” on the script.  How prophetic. And never aired as he died shortly after ward.  But his last words, just before the crash should be taken to heart.  “Doesn’t he see us?  He’s gonna hit us...”  Aren’t you glad God sees everything?  Don’t you wish James had.  Cool won’t get you to heaven, only knowing Jesus will.  Now that’s cool, too cool for school.  A man with a real cause.  A rebel in and of love.  And the life he saved is mine.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com