wonderful counselor-can you afford anyone less?

I talked with a friend yesterday who has had his bike in the shop over a month, and then they call saying they can't fix it, don't know what the problem is, and it is probably ok to ride. Frustrated he is given some alternatives, with a lesson learned-never go back there. And having been on both ends, as a service manager and a distraught customer, I can empathize with him. So gave him some real world advice. Good advice only works if taken...if I'd have known this 40 years ago...

As a manager we always wanted first shot at fixing a problem. I always told our techs to "autograph your work with excellence," so whoever worked on it next was impressed. But sometimes the customer thinks he is always right, to me a sign of a shop in decline. Imagine coaching the surgeon through open heart surgery. "Don't touch that red thing, what is it anyway?" But first you must take it to someone who is qualified. Give them the proper info, then let them fix it. Unfortunately some customers expect miracles, and on some vehicles that is what it takes. Techs nowadays are not taught to properly diagnose, and won't because they won't get paid for it. A good service manager sees they will-if they are doing their job, if not we have let people go because they are less than professional. But what if they can't fix it the first time? Whose fault is it? The state of California has consumer protection laws, if a vehicle cannot be fixed after being down for 30 days, no matter how many visits, it can be returned or replaced. Not quite that easy, but persistence and a good attorney help. I have dealt with men who overbought, couldn't afford the payments, so made up fake reasons, exposing themselves. I have also dealt with patient people who loved the car, and just wanted it fixed. We finally had to take the attitude that we not only had to fix the car, but fix the customer too. Cars are easier. People don't come with warranties...and in real life that is why doctors and lawyers only practice their trade...and can bury the victim if they lose. Sometimes you may be better off having been born a Pinto, or a Pacer.

Yet we shuttle off to the dealer, sometimes after having been warned not to. Trusting man over God, as if He were just another man to voice His opinion. Too many shop their problems around until they get an answer they like. As Christians we have Jesus, our wonderful counselor to consult first, but usually wait until we can only make the situation worse-they call out in desperation. Never our fault, just accusing Him, "where were you in the first place?" Generally He was holding the life preserver that you wouldn't take. So don't lean on your own understanding, trust God going in. All advice isn't Godly, even if it comes from the church. A few years back they sponsored a Christian writers conference, and I sent in a sample. And never heard back, but I did from God. Who asked me two questions, "where can you find a better editor than me?" and "who is a better publisher than me?" Consider the Bible, who was the editor and publisher? The number one all time best seller. Any complaints, see my boss. He also accepts praise and worship on our behalf. Again Godly advice only works if taken, and we too often look at God in worldly ways. Bringing Him to our level, rather than recognizing who He is, and trying to reach up to His. If you find yourself arguing with God, remember He is never wrong, always right, and can get you out of your situation-if you let Him! Stupid hurts!

So if your bike breaks, your car won't run, or is worse after you tried to fix it, it still is not too late to turn to Jesus. Ask, and He will offer good advice, if He is the wonderful counselor, why settle for anything else? And if you lost great riding time, costing you money and inconvenience, learn the lesson-ask around to those who know, who ride your brand, and whose testimonies are based on God. Maybe that is why I ride more than others-my bikes are rarely in the shop-God has led me to the best, and I have obeyed. Which is better than sacrifice when it comes to riding. Or anything else in life. Why can we always find the time to do it again the second time, when we could have avoided all the trouble by listening to God in the first place?

Today is the four month anniversary of my open heart surgery. God led me to the right surgeon, the right hospital, and the best care. People die from what I had, no second chances. It pays to listen, and obey. Now, what may I ask is your problem? Have you talked to our wonderful counselor? Losers make excuses, Christians have testimonies. The words from your mouth will tell us what choice you made.

love with compassion, out riding, and living,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

it's hard to steer with your front wheel in the air

Wheelies-the front wheel in the air, and stoppies, the rear wheel in the air have become commonplace among today's motorcyclists. Whereas in the past only the brave on a dirt bike, or the rare Evel Knievel type would wheelie, now we see them on the freeways, leaving a stoplight, and other places. Not an unusual sight. Not as common, but still gaining in popularity are stoppies, grabbing the front brake and watching the rear wheel leave the ground. Giving Harley riders an argument for not using their front brake, while they skid past you only using their rear. I have done both, stoppies unintentially, and ended up sitting on the tank. It felt cool, I wish I had known it was coming. Wheelies-well the Street Triple encourages them, and bringing the front wheel up while accelerating in second gear is fun. I don't recommend either one, but I don't discourage them either. They're fun when done right.

My first impromptu wheelie was on BH's CB 750, with Brennan on back. I missed the shift between first and second, and with the engine at redline, hit second-and got hit in the head by Brennan's foot as they left the pegs. Scared me, which I never admitted-but scared him even more-which he did. My other BH example was when he was showing off for a girl-and wheelied the same bike, sans passenger. Watching the young lady watch him, he failed to notice the car in front of him stopping, and brought the front wheel down on the trunk. Unhurt, bike OK, but the cop in the car that he landed on had no sense of humor, or of trying to impress girls, never mind wheelies, and gave him a ticket. Over the years I have had various friends wheelie 15-17 miles at time, I'm impressed, they're nuts. And I wish I had the skill, or at least the courage to attempt either one. Sometimes fear can be a good thing, in my case it probably has added years to my riding, which I consider a fair trade.

On the latest Triumph Explorer I rode, it has traction control and ABS. Which makes skidding and burnouts all but impossible, call it an anti-fun mode. Fortunately it can be turned off. And overall it hasn't made a better rider, but a safer one. Which can't be all bad, but there are times you just gotta wheelie, skid, or stoppie-what good is fun if you don't enjoy it? Yet it is the power that your wrist controls that controls these things also, and for racers wins races. It is hard to steer while wheeling-and without the rear wheel on the ground, no power is getting to the track. And although it looks cool, the winners save it for their victory lap. I could name some exceptions, but will honor their talent by not implicating them. Power under control keeps both wheels on the ground, allows you to use all your braking capability, go faster, steer better, and still have more fun than should be legal.

Power under control is not a new concept, but spoken of for almost 2000 years. God calls it meekness, quite different from the weakness that meekness invokes today. Meekness meant, and still means doing the right thing, although a wrong retaliation would be proper given the situation. We recently were verbally confronted by someone, and it would have been easy to verbally retaliate, but yet we chose to just get up and leave-winning the argument by default. And not causing any further continuance that could be blamed on us. It is the fruit of the spirit, and is listed just before self control-it is a choice you make to control the situation, let it get out of control, or let God deal with it. Meekness allows God to deal with it for you-your choice, because He never forces His way upon you. And just like riding, you get better traction with both feet on the ground, on special footing. Jesus tells us the wise man built his house upon the rock, all else is sinking sand. Remember that next time you lose traction-and the ABS or traction control is slow. Jesus isn't, He has everything under control, and offers this same to you-via your choice to be meek. Power under control, the quality of every race winner, survivor on the street, and Christians everywhere.

To truly enjoy the freedom of the road, you need to keep the wheels turning, and life is also like that. Few have the talents, and even fewer the road to showcase other skills, and for most of us survival is more important than showing off. I don't have to brag about what kind of rider I am, my skills reflect it, and so do the many miles on different types of bikes. Meekness is soft spoken, doesn't brag on itself, and is there when needed, even in emergency situations. And just ask my friend BH who landed on the trunk of the police car. The fine was well over a week's pay for him, the girl kept going, and he had a severely bruised ego. But the story goes on, as does his riding, showing God's mercy and grace. May you keep the rubber side down, the shiny side up, and get every thrill from riding and life you can. Power under control can allow you great wheelies, impressive stoppies, and even a date with the pretty girl. But like my friend Ivan Stewart once said, "it is not the jumps that scare him, it is the landing." Stay on solid ground with Jesus, meekness can be as close as your throttle hand. A marksman is known by his aim, not his arrows. What your life reflects will tell us what you are known by. Power under control...a twist of the wrist for some, a confidence in God offered to all who believe.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

the new states

Located here within our wonderful US of A are four states whose first name is New. New Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, and New York, all settled by different groups of people, who were looking for something new, but wishing to incorporate some of the history and traditions of their homeland. Bringing the best of the old, and mixing it with the new, this was the basis of our country. No more of the same only different philosophy, but part of a "new nation, conceived in liberty...where all men are created equal." New in the best sense of the word.

I was part of the New Coke phenomenon when it was introduced. And failed as a product, but won as a marketing gem for Classic Coke. The US of A has laws concerning the use of the word new in advertising, and it could only be new for awhile. It went away long before it ever got old. But yet we have these four states, some enduring over 200 years, with New Mexico celebrating its 100th anniversary this year. And for those of you who tend to think in a blonde mode, New England is not a state, despite it having its own football team. Patriots yes, just not eligible for statehood.

New York, although named after an English town, was really settled by the Dutch-at least New York City was, before the English arrived, they called it New Amsterdam. New Hampshire has the motto of "live free or die," yet is very liberal and votes Democratic. More laws, more government=less freedom. What was old Hampshire like? Then there is New Jersey, or just Jersey. You don't call New York just York, or New Hampshire just Hampshire, and you really are wrong if you call New Mexico just Mexico. Yet Jersey can drop the New, unlike any other state. And if you think Jersey Turnpike when you think of New Jersey, and Bayonne, Jersey City, and some other eyesores of the Garden State, you wonder just how bad was the old Jersey in England? I grew up in Jersey-I can comment. Remember this is the state that when John Lindsay was running for mayor of NYC was know to comment, "Keep New York clean, dump your trash in New Jersey." Cleverly disguised as the Meadowlands, really a landfill. New? Jersey?

Which brings us to New Mexico, USA. The state I moved to from Jersey. Where they don't speak Spanish, their language is English, like the rest of the US of A, with the possible exception of California. Called the "Land of Enchantment," all you have to do is watch one sunset to know why. Where hi-tech meets old world, home of the Atomic Bomb, the best heart surgeons, and the Navajo Nation, aka the world's largest ghetto. But new it is, and with a culture all its own, a flavor to food all its own, and a beauty unique to itself, although it shares a long border with Mexico. Which we don't call Old Mexico, and we don't refer to Old York, Old Hampshire, or Old Jersey. No Old England sports teams either. Where when something new was started, the old was left behind. A new life, in a new country, with new freedoms.

In heaven we find the city of New Jerusalem. And just like we become a "new creature" in Christ when we are born again, this New Jerusalem will be like no other city on earth. Named after the city which is the apple of God's eye, no more wars, bombs, dissidents, or those who refuse to honor God will be residents there. It will have gold for streets, relegating it to asphalt status. All you gold buyers, do you know you are really just storing up heavenly asphalt? Gates made up of one huge pearl each. And the beauty is like none other ever seen-for no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor mind imagined the things of God. It is an eternal city, with eternal residents. Truly a land of enchantment. But you must be born again to gain access. You must become a new creature in Christ...where behold the old is passed away. Where there is no old to compare it to, and it doesn't even mention any turnpikes.

The ultimate New destination for those looking for freedom, and finding it in Jesus Christ. A final settlement for believers, who are referred to in scripture as sojourners, or those just travelling through this earth. Who have a real destination and homeland which are all the same. And to which we aspire to go to someday. If only you believe.

Believe in your heart, and confess with your mouth that Jesus Christ is God and you will be saved. Yet so many are hard hearted, and refuse Him. Choosing instead to stay the same with the same old sin. And if you consider God harsh for not accepting sinners, remember it is His grace by which you are saved, not of yourself. No sin in heaven, at that time we will fully know God's true justice, thankfully revealed to us in love.

So look ahead, or look up as scripture encourages, the New Jerusalem is closer than it was to us yesterday. Whether from New Hampshire, New York, New Jersey, or New Mexico, or any of its old namesakes, there is no place like heaven. No matter where you are from, it is more important where you are going. Going back to the garden, heaven, New Jerusalem...truly there is no place like home. Not found on any map, only within the kingdom of God.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

buying an old bike

I have been talking with a friend who quit riding almost 30 years ago and is getting back into it. For no good reason-there are no good reasons to quit riding, he now wants back in, and we welcome him. He is taking an MSF course, getting his license, and now is looking for a used bike to ride. And of course, he ones he wants are the ones he couldn't afford back then, and as I explain, you may have left motorcycling, but it carried on without you somehow. And what was the hot set-up then, is old when you consider how far technology has come since you abandoned us. Brakes, power, and suspensions will help you become a better rider, and are welcoming you back, too. You'll wish you never left. And as I look back over 41 years, with the exception of three months, owning at least one bike, many an older used bike has come my way.

I have always wanted to buy an older bike, and take the train to get it-out of state, then ride it home. After an insurance settlement two years ago, I took some money for myself and set out to live the dream. Setting a radius of 1000 miles, and a budget of $2500, I set out. Only the train part was too expensive, so I had to fly. Some good choices out there, but you learn to read between the lines, or listen between them. A CB750 in New Mexico sounded too good to be true, and when I started asking questions, it was. This 1972 was also parts from '73, '74, and some other non-Honda parts. Check that off the list. A 1978 GS750E with low miles looked like the deal, until the owner called. He was replacing a leaking valve cover gasket, and found a cam lobe pitted. His conscience wouldn't let him sell it-thanks to him for his honesty. And a 1981 GS1100, a red one, was the choice, except it had a Kerker, a dent in the tank, and some other non-stock stuff. I wanted original-good luck.

But a bike I had first looked at was still available.
A 1978 GS1000E, a first year with low miles, just over 20k, and was all stock, except for the shocks, I learned to live with the Progressives he installed. And just north of Seattle, It was over the 1000 mile goal, extra miles to ride a bonus. So making the deal over the phone with the dealer, who assured me it was OK to ride to San Diego, and ran as good as it looked, I flew up, with him getting me at Sea-Tac Airport. After exchanging money for my new old ride, I took off. I had forgotten how the late 70's were cursed with emissions for motorcycles, would it ever warm up. And what about the brakes-would they stop me? But it did have a comfy seat, a helmet hook, and a center stand-remember when those were standard? So as we got used to each other, it was fine. Only one problem crept up, after riding 108 miles, the speedo cable broke, a $12 item replaced when I got home. And it ran flawlessly the rest of the trip. I rode 1400 miles in two days. I had planned on doing it in four, but it ran so good I kept going. Riding at 80-85, on a bike right at home at today's speeds, but sold when 55 was the law. Finally getting a chance to get up and show her stuff. And we both learned much about old bikes, and as the relationship grew, the difference didn't matter, I was riding her, and she was on the road again. I had never left, she had taken a rest period, and was glad to be out getting the exercise.

There is no good reason to turn your back on Christ. And no matter why you walked out on Him, He never left you, not forsook you. And even though you may have changed, He hasn't and welcomes you back with open arms, not a threatening scowl. For just as there are no good reasons to abandon riding, there are no good reasons to abandon Jesus. So get over all the excuses, and turn to Him today. You will find that you may have changed, but His love hasn't. That although your life situations may have changed, that His love, grace, and mercy for you haven't. and even though at times you felt far away, He was there, just waiting for you to call out to Him. So no matter what excuse you have, Jesus is the answer. Welcome back! We've missed you, and can't wait to have you back in fellowship.

And like my friend, you will wonder while you ever wandered away. For no matter what you substitute, it isn't the same as the real thing. So I can tell you with a great deal of authority, that Jesus, my wife, and motorcycles are where it is at. Nothing else even comes close. You should be riding, and spending time with God. And where better to talk and listen with Him than while riding. Do you think maybe when we talk about the freedom of riding that we really mean the freedom of Christ on two wheels? So whether it has been two days, two weeks, two years, or 30 years-get your priorities right. It Jesus-then all other things. You are just one twist of the throttle away from knowing a freedom that few others enjoy. Let the testimonies begin! If you never leave, you never have to come back. But if you do, remember there is an old bike out there waiting to be rescued, and ridden. It all starts with turning back...to Jesus. Now, why did you quit riding....

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

the trade in

You bought it with love, paid all the payments grudgingly over the years. Your kids knew not to eat in it, or play around it. You maintained it, polished it, and garaged it. You loved it and bragged about it to others, then one day it got old. It wasn't a fuel efficient as the new model, the styles had changed, and suddenly the car was considered old-maybe not to you, but as the neighborhood vehicles got newer, yours appeared older. So one day, under the excuse of just looking, you went cruising the car stores, looking for a replacement. WOW how prices had changed, and what once was a house payment, was now a car payment. And your old car, the one you cherished and loved, was now just a tool to bargain with. Sentiment has no value when it comes time to sell, and you finally decide on a price, and drive home with a new car. And the cycle repeats itself....buy for love, and sell for money. Pay retail, sell for wholesale, and then try to explain what a great deal you got to your wife...who may not know cars, but understands value. Who understands form before function, just not when it comes to new car negotiations.

I had had my FJ 1100 for 10 years, and traded it for one of the first new Triumphs-a 1996 Trident. A whole new arena for me, and my friend from many trips, 76,000 miles, and endless memories was being traded. And I wondered would I ever get over it. Which took me 1.9 miles after leaving the dealer, when stopping for gas and I looked at the Trident. This was my new ride. Everything was new, the same roads would be seen from behind a new set of handlebars, and a whole new adventure was beginning. The same only different, and suddenly all the quirks of the FJ were forgotten, with no new rides on it to remember, and many new memories ahead with my new ride. I couldn't go back to it for one last ride, and found I didn't need to or want to. And looked ahead to the many that would follow on the Trident.

The same road, same rider, but a whole new outlook. You go into the same corners different, cruise in maybe a different gear, and hit higher speeds-the same road, but with a new bike, and a changed rider on it. An exciting time, as old expands to new, which expands to more roads, more rides, and more new adventures. Meeting new riders, and sometimes leaving your old riding buddies behind. Who wonder what has happened to you, and you wonder why it hasn't happened to them. And soon you find yourself riding less with them, and more with your new friends, and life is new and exciting, just because of the ride you have chosen to take, and the choices you have made.

I thought I had a good time before I came to Christ. I was enjoying life, doing whatever I wanted, and the joke was that if you died young you made a better looking corpse. And sadly I have known some better looking corpses over the years. But after resisting the invitation that Jesus extended, I finally said yes. And what I once thought was important was found to be foolish. I had a new ride, and even the old roads seemed more exciting. And as I grew in grace, I found that while I often would look back with fond memories, the person that was in them was not the person remembering them. I had changed, the old for the new, and never wanted to go back. I had new memories to make, and was looking forward to making them. Sadly my old friends didn't see it my way, and still don't today. My new life in Christ was a threat to the sin in their life, and as I moved on, they moved back. And I made new friends who had Christ in their life, and suddenly the new riding partners had more skills, more desire, and a new outlook on life, and riding. When it came time to trade, I made a good deal-sin for grace. Death for life. And it was all paid for in advance-just like showing up at the will call window, and the backstage passes were waiting with my name on them.

But what of old friends and old rides? When I run into them, I get excited about my life, but they have little excitement in theirs. Life has interfered with their plans, while Jesus has made mine come true. He gave me life, and showed me a better way. With more to come...but what of old friends? And are you one of theirs? How does your old Yamaha shop look at you as you ride in on a new Triumph? Aren't they both motorcycles, don't you both ride? But sadly something is missing-the common bond is gone, having been brand specific. He used to ride one of ours, but changed.

Make the change to Jesus today. And live a life to encourage others. Be an example to those who don't know God, that by seeing you they want to know God. Ask them along for a ride, and take them places they had never been, but only heard about. Let them experience Jesus for themselves, for love doesn't demand its own way. You shouldn't either. Make a new old riding partner today.

And for those who won't or don't, don't give up on them as you move on. Jesus never gave up on you. They could just be making a testimony to share with others. They'll know when to make the trade. to go from death to life. Just like you did. Today is the day of salvation-any questions, ask God and make it yours today. So many roads, so many bikes, and so many new memories to make. Make them in the Lord.

When riding my 1978 GS1000, after riding a new bike, I wonder "how did we ever ride those things?" But I am reminded that the bike will only go where you are looking-so look ahead. For as Satchel Paige once commented, "don't look behind you, the devil may be gaining." I choose to look ahead, and see Christ. Hope you do too.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

are you sure about that?

When we were kids and Joey's mom got a new car, we ran home telling our parents, and they would doubt us. They knew the Colemans, and if Mrs. Coleman had traded in her 1950 Chevy for the new Mustang, this had to be seen to be believed. "Are you sure about that?" they would ask, for not only had we never seen the new Mustangs, but Mrs. Coleman? Her old car was old even among old cars at the time, which were uncool. But once we saw it parked in front of her house where the old Chevy used to sit and leak, and when we saw her taking Joey to school, we believed. But after we had ridden in it, then the story had to be true-no one could not believe you if you ridden in it! Not even your parents! Believing was seeing, riding in it, was too cool for words. We knew it was really hers now. And the smile spoke for any adjectives your 11 year old vocabulary hadn't added yet.

When visiting my father-in-law in the ER the other day, we had been talking about my recent open heart surgery. Do we sound like two old ladies discussing operations or what? When his nurse walked in and commented I looked good for only 3 months after surgery. She asked what I had had done, and when I explained about the staph infection filling my pericardial sac, and the aneurism on my aorta, she gave a look of disbelief. We knew only one other case like this had been recorded, but when I told her about my heart filled with pus, and my aorta exploding, she looked at me with disbelief. "You don't live through that, it is called AAA, and it is fatal." You bleed to death is less than 30 seconds! Only after explaining I was a miracle, God's miracle, and that I had read the reports, and talked to the doctors, did she begin to believe me. She had met the man behind the story-why would I make this up? No layman could do that, only since it was my testimony would it be believable. And I am sure she was going to pass the story around to her other nurses, who may not believe her, but she had met me-seeing was believing. And she wasn't the first medical professional to question it, even my local cardiologist after a full examination could find no fault with me. "You're lucky to be alive, but fine," he said. The scar only proving what the test showed. And I have the scar to prove it!

He is wrongly called Doubting Thomas, although the Bible never refers to him by that. Check out the scene, it is three days after Jesus had been crucified. It is Sunday night, and all the remaining disciples except for Thomas are up hiding, in the dark, in the upper room, for fear of persecution. An elite bunch, but a normal group of men, who were unique because of Jesus. We are not told where Thomas is, but one teacher believes he is on the street, living for Christ still, in spite of the circumstances. When in walks Jesus, although the door is locked. Right through the wall. And just like He said, after 3 days He would rise-and they all saw Him, except for Tom. But when they hurriedly told him that they had seen Jesus, his first thought was one of hmmmm? Great, now they are seeing ghosts. Aren't these the same bunch that included a tax collector, a known liar? Who the two brother's Mommy had gone to Jesus to ask for special treatment upon death? And here before death? And wasn't the toughest one intimidated by a teenage girl? And had to run away? And he was asked to believe this bunch? Yeah right, He just walked in through the wall. Would you? If it was so easy to believe, what took you so long?

So we know about his famous "only if I touch Him will I believe" statement. But so did Jesus. And reminded Tom of that when they met again. And Thomas believed-never touching His wounds, but recognizing Jesus! And recognizing His voice, for the sheep know the sound of their shepherd's voice-one that they all should have known very well, and that Thomas instantly recognized. So why do we doubt Jesus even today, and why does He still bear the scars? To prove it is Him, because we ask, like the nurse did, and like Tom did, "are you sure?" Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the word, and the word is not the book, but the person of Jesus Christ, the great shepherd. An illustrated book.

So it is OK to be like Thomas, for he only wanted to be sure. He didn't trust man, or his friends. He only trusted God-and set an example for us to follow today. Are you that sheep wondering about Jesus? Get to know His voice, and trust in addition to believing. For all believe, but only a small number trust. And that is among those of us who are saved!

And so I have this 12 inch scar on my chest to prove to the doubters of my testimony. When I look at it in the mirror I am reminded of the miracle that God performed in me-and how unique I am to Him. And how no other person on record has my story-my medical testimony or my testimony of Jesus Christ. And yours is just as precious and just as unique. So next time someone demands evidence before they make a commitment, take them to Thomas. They may doubt-he never did. He wanted proof-and found it in the voice of Jesus, the word of God! Proof that the word never returns void, and He has the scars to prove it.

I wonder what the nurse would think of that? What do you think of that? For it is not the question, but your answer that makes the difference. That I am sure about. Jesus Christ-and He has the scars to prove it!

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

---

they left the light on for you

...there is no place like home. But to those of us who love to ride, there is also no place like the road. And among the great rods, rides, and food, it is the people we meet that make each mile or meal special. Hospitality it is called, making us feel welcome or at home when we are not. Here are just a few who if asked would not admit to going out of their way, just doing their job...but to us that day and at that time they just made it special. Memorable, and worth repeating.

We were up on Skyline Drive in Virginia and met a man who had a Sprint ST like us. "Follow me, " he said, "this road is my back yard." And for the next 45 minutes rode at speeds I never would have attempted, followed him, using his braking markers, and enjoying the scenery and the road. When he pulled off, we both waved, thinking "what a great ride." And he was thinking the same thing...It was a three day weekend 4th of July, and coming back through Salida, the Z-1 started running on only two cylinders. I had gone past an old house with a Kawasaki sign out front, and when I walked back, there was an emergency number on the door. Calling the number, Tom, the owner, came down on this Sunday night with tools and parts-the bike at this point wouldn't start. For a couple of hours we talked while he gave my bike a tune-up, and when it came time to pay, said, "I have to charge you something, or my wife will get upset...how about $20? Which was my last cash, and in these pre-VISA days all I had with me, and 150 miles to get home. He then paid for a tank of gas, and covered me for a night at a motel. "Send me a check when you get home, have a good trip." Guess where I bought my next bike?

It was Labor Day weekend, and we had taken a spontaneous trip all through the Rockies. On Monday morning, I noticed my R100S had more miles to home than tire, so sought out a Western Auto Broomfield in desperation. No tire, but his friend owned the Suzuki shop. Would a Suzuki tire fit a BMW? Minutes later his friend was opening up his shop, we borrowed tools and changed the tire, and were on our way. Safely. We had eaten lunch at Skeeter's in Wytheville, Virginia, serving great chili dogs since 1927. When we paying, I was able to have my picture taken with three generations of women, going back to 1927. Somehow the food tasted better having a face to go with it. All 80 years of them. On a later Memorial Day, we had ridden Hiway 49, then San Francisco, Hiway 1 and dinner in San Luis Obispo. I called the owner of the Tropicana Inn in Santa Barbara to let him know we would be late. He would leave the keys under our door mats, and told me we could settle up in the morning. Which we did after a great sleep. It was then Jeff noticed his master link was missing. Again the manager to the rescue, his friend owned a hot rod shop, and tack welded the chain where the master link was missing. All from guys who don't ride, who just cared enough to handle the situation.

It was my first trip to Victoria, BC, and Bruce had goofed our hotel reservation. Still light at 10pm, we found a place with only a suite left, but she gave it to us for the room price. She also called over to the restaurant, who had just closed, and a cook and waitress hung around and took care of us. Anything we wanted, and then sat and wanted to hear of our trip for the next hour. When done, the desk clerk came over and stuck the pool key in my hand. It too was closed, but she thought we might like a swim or a soak in the spa. Southern hospitality, just slightly north of the border. Southern Canada, if you will. Many others come to mind, of those who loved to serve, and see those visitors to their towns welcomed. To them from all of us who ride, a big thanks. Thanks for making us feel at home, be it ever so humble.

Hospitality is not a new thing, and for over 2000 years God talks about it in the Bible. Consider the innkeeper with the stranger and the good Samaritan. He kept him until the Samaritan returned, with no chance of showing up on Trip Advisor or AAA. How about the innkeeper who took in a young couple with child, and when his inn was full, still found room for them in a stable? I'm sorry, I didn't get his name...And that child born there that night would set other examples for us to follow. He would feed 5000 with meager means, making all feel welcome and leaving full. He was gracious to the woman at the well, made the woman caught in sin feel safe among her accusers, and showed others the best place to fish, and others the best medical facilities. If you remember, His name is Jesus. And He did His best ministering on the road, with no place to call His own.

At the last supper, He told His disciples, "do this in memory of me." Can we do the same? Can we just be hospitable? What a call to ministry that is. How often do we greet the stranger in church, or have them sit with us? Do we introduce them to others, and make them feel welcome in our church home? Do we offer them going to lunch after, or do they leave not knowing anyone, and we wonder why they never come back. "It's a friendly church," they were told. "Where are the friendly people?"

Today greet a stranger in love, listen to them, and get to know them. Do this in memory of Jesus, who is very much alive. Are you? What would your AAA rating be for hospitality? Did you leave a light on for them? Did you show them the light? Sometimes the simplest of ministries is the most effective. "I was a stranger and you took me in..." Jesus Christ-He is the light, and He is left on for you! No matter where the road leads you, He is on it with you. Be it ever so humble... and He is. And worth repeating.

love with compassion,

Mike

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