great pick up lines

Over the years there have been some great pick up lines.  Everyone recognizes the 48-54 Chevies, highly collectible today.  Ford with its first F1 in 1948, then the 53-56’s came along, nose heavy and cool, and customizers started customizing trucks.  Jeep brought us the 4 wheel drive Willys, styled after the Jeep, and even International showed a work truck could have lasting looks.  It is hard to overlook any Dodge Power Wagon, great name for a great work truck, 4 wheel drive and they could do it all.  Even their Job Rated series looked good then and now, and all the trucks we remember as kids at construction sights, delivering goods, and working on the farm are now highly collectible, and valuable.  I have always favored the 1960 Chevy with its heavy eyebrows, so ugly it was beautiful.  But then pick ups became more car like, even Ford with its Ranchero, and Chevy’s El Camino, both built on car chassis showed the styling was more important than the function to a growing suburban class.  They wanted good looks, but with more comfort than the ride offered the farmer.  And for the next 30 years became mainstream, as the F150 now is the best selling model of any vehicle sold in the US of A, and has been for many years.  Some 20 years ago Dodge brought us the big truck look, a Peterbuilt styled front end that has become their trademark.  Ford in 1997 brought us car like styling to the front end of its F150, setting the truck world on its styling butt.  So we have been blessed with many iconic trucks, from 1948-1997, highly desired and highly collectible today.  Who would have ever thought a truck built for work, would bring 30 times its purchase price 50 years later?  Worn out and abused, only to be resurrected again.  And be customized, lowered, hot rodded, and lifted-all in the same time frame?  Farmers driving pick ups, wearing blue jeans-maybe they were cool way before their time.

But not all great pick up lines are trucks, many are verbal.  And they vary from cool, to scared, to rude, from wishful to demanding, and all demanding an answer.  But not everyone is as suave as Bond, as cool as Bogie, or as taken for granted as Cary, but we all have used various pick up lines to meet girls. Some offered rides in their convertibles, some on their motorcycles, some would carry her books, and some would just ask to dance.  All classic lines, variations on a theme, but without that special magic they are just words.  It takes the contact between the two, to make it personal, to make a great pick up line work.  And while many escape success by not trying, others still are looking for that opening line that gets them the first dance or date.  Such classics as “Wannadance,” all one word, or “needaride,” again one word have worked for years.  “Whatchadoin?” demands an answer, but nothing works better than a compliment.  “Gee you look good Betty,”  but “those jeans sure make you look big on my bike,” are better left at home, where you would be if tried.  And then there was always the funny guy, who told her she was his “melancholy baby,” because she had a head like a melon, and a face like a collie.”  Classic, but even Lassie rode in the back of, you guessed it, a pick up.  So although there are some great pick up lines, it still takes two to make them work.  But when she says yes....then what do you talk about?

For all of us who are saved, someone used a line on us, maybe not a great  pick up line, but one to introduce us to Jesus Christ.  Maybe it was a friend inviting you to church.  Or to a Christian concert.  Maybe another Christian saw you down and out, and offered to listen, showing the love of Christ.  Some are faced with what happens after death, while others are just seeking, and looking for love.  Whatever the great pick up line that brought you to Christ was, all of them have one thing in common.  The Holy Spirit.  For you cannot be talked into salvation, although many try, more zealous than spirit driven.  For some it takes years, some just get it, and some don’t, won’t and just refuse the invitation.  No matter how great the pick up line, they refuse.  They deny the spirit.  How important is the spirit?  We are told that all sins are forgiven, except that of blaspheming the holy spirit-in a word, telling Him “NO.”  Reject the offer, you are still lost, accept the offer, repent, and you are saved.  Now slick talking preacher, no telethon, no telecast, or tele-anything can save you-only Jesus.  And the spirit points you to Him, and He points you to His Father, God in heaven.  The only way, so as not to be confused by some clever ads, or some guys bringing papers to your door.  Don’t be misled because they have Jesus Christ in their name-many will come in His name, but are liars, and counterfeiters.  You want the real thing-no greater pick up line than from the holy spirit.  He never goes out of style.

And unique to each Christian is that line that brought us to Jesus.  We share it through our testimony, and use it to bring others to Christ.  Evangelists, and ambassadors al at once.  Powered by the holy spirit, we watch as He changes lives through us, using us to spread the gospel.  Where actions and attitudes speak more than words, which we use only when needed.  So here is the invite to those not saved, to those not sure, or confused.  Jesus says, “tired, I will give you rest.  Seeking, you will find.  Thirsty, I offer water so that you will never thirst again.  Scared, I offer peace.  Lonely, I stand closer than a friend.  In trouble, I will defend you.  And “lost, I am the way...follow me.”  Sound like something you want, or need, that something is really a someone-Jesus.  It’s that simple, and I love the gospel because it is simple, like me, so I can get it.  And if I can, what’s your excuse?

Great pick up lines will come and go, styles change.  Jesus doesn’t.  Buy into a classic today, and never look back.  Grace never goes out of style.  What you drive may tell us much about you, but where you are going is more important.  Worn out and abused?  Wanna ride?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

feasting on asphalt

This ride was really Alton Brown’s fault.  While watching the Food Channel years ago, he did a show called Feasting on Asphalt, where he travelled the US of A in a group of BMW’s searching for different road food.  Who couldn’t love a show like that?  And so while planning a summer ride, we have used him as a guide for eating, and some riding, too.  His Highway 61 ride was on the other night, for those who don’t know, it is the basis for most of the “Great River Road,” which shadows the Mississippi River, from Louisiana to Minnesota.  Or vice versa if you are vertically challenged.  It was like watching a home movie for us, for we did the ride based on him.  Watching as they ate in Mississippi, we looked back at eating BBQ at Abe’s in Clarksdale, Crossroads of the Blues.  Real pulled pork, eaten the way it should be with cole slaw on the top, between the buns.  Washed down with iced tea, you don’t ask for sweet in the south, there is no other way.  We had previously eaten at Lambert’s, Home of the Throwed Roll, where servers come around and give you all you can eat tomato salad, fried okra, and they throw rolls to you, the size of soft balls, and not from just a few feet, but 30-40 feet across the room.  You better be pretty god, and ready, we saw one kid catch one with his face, try that at your favorite café.  All in addition to what you ordered, for my first time it was chicken fried steak, which covered the platter, with mashies and green beans on top.  But you can’t beat the rolls, and the food is great-go with a group of friends, and spend an afternoon gorging.  In Illinois,we tried to catch a place called Eddie’s, a roadhouse, but really a run down bar along the old river road.  Sadly we arrived too early, so on to Quincy it as, still in Illinois.  An interesting place, as there are huge caves, so big semis drive into them and they serve as wear houses.  Along the river, and old, that mid day it was still socked in with the humidity in the air, June gloom to us in Cali.  And riding into town, it is just another old river town, passed by, with no malls in sight, to me always a good thing.  But our quest for lunch was Maid Rite, a place where they serve hamburger in buns, but not in a patty, like sloppy joes with no sauce.  Old Alton was excited to find one, they were long thought to have gone out of business, since starting in 1928, but this one was doing well, real well as we stopped for lunch.  But on the way, I got lost, not really lost as I still had gas, but I couldn’t remember the name, I called it Merry Maids, which made me look stupid, bloody tourist, and those who I asked thought I was crazy, what is a biker from California doing in Illinois anyway?  But after some heated discussions with two women at a convenience store, they figured out what I meant, and pointed me back to where I had passed it a few times, looking right when I should have looked left.  And there it was, and so were we.  I had two, with fries, and a piece of apple pie, all served on wax paper, or in waxed Dixie cups, how old school is that?  Just school to Maid Rite.

Now I never travel with a GPS, I don’t like them.  Give me an old worn out folding map anytime.  You can see more than just a 3x5 screen, you can see where roads go, roads that branch off from them, and alternative routes.  You make the choice, not the GPS, or the geek who thinks the Jersey Turnpike is a scenic route.  You get to plan, you get to seek alternative routes, and you see America.  Maybe even get lost a time or two, but end up finding roads the locals ride on as opposed to the roads that are advertised.  You find places like Maid Rite, places like Abe’s, and you cross over rivers on single lane bridges, that rock and creak under your weight.  You meet people, who like you, are tired and bored with so much technology, and still like to think for themselves, as opposed to having someone do it for them.  We call it freedom, what do you call it?  The ability to make your own choices, a threat to those who are only digitally enhanced, and who must be led, because they have no ability to lead, or go it alone.  And so as I plan our July trip, only a few days due to finances and health, I have my old maps out.  And go over roads I have travelled, and note roads I wanted to go on the next time there.  Where does that road go?  This time I will find out, and I have found a 12 mile section called the Old Coast Road, south of Big Sur.  I am Highway 1’ed out, I have ridden it so many times, but have you ridden the Old Road?  I will this time.  Found on an old map, and shows even on Google Earth, as an single lane path.  You might miss it, I didn’t.  Not a scenic route, just route with scenery.  No postcards, no places to eat.  Road warning signs, can’t wait to ride it.   For me a road that was “made right” for our style of travel.  A road with no route number, just a name.  You can keep your GPS and its non-exciting routes, we ride.

We want more from our meals, more from our ride, and more from our God.  I am not content to settle for a maybe when praying, or to hear the same old teaching on a certain scripture.  I get bored and upset when I hear of doubting Thomas-he wasn’t, but it is taught like he was.  I get insulted when I hear the teaching of the thorn in Paul’s side, and what yours might be.  Read the scripture, right there in 1 Corinthians 12 it tells you plainly.  How could you have missed it, or did you just take someone’s word for it?  Just like a preprogrammed GPS, many live for Christ.  Following whatever is taught, and never reading the word themselves.  Relying on hearsay, or legend, and taking it for truth, or worse yet gospel.  And so we are told to work out our own salvation, not be saved, but to strengthen our relationship with Jesus.  To become more like Him.  To know the truth when we hear it, and also to be able to tell a lie, so we don’t repeat one.  To know when to turn, or when to go on, just around the next corner may be the miracle God has planned for you.  And as you go you become familiar with the territory, and suddenly you are not a sojourner, just passin’ through, but feel like you belong, you feel welcomed, and comfortable.  Where a meal like Maid Rite is the right thing, eating an extra one, because you may never pass that way again.  Taking advantage of the opportunities God makes available, with hidden blessings behind them.

Life should not be lived like driving on the freeway, just another numbered exit with franchised food.  Give me Joy’s café where I can eat the special, tenderloin tips, homemade potato salad, drink, and pie for $5, and get to visit with the cook and the owner-who both ride.  Talk with the farmer who wishes you would stop and talk his wife into letting him get a motorcycle. Find out the best way around a city, rather than the beltway.  Get the best chocolate ice box pie, the best BBQ, and the best chili dogs.  Served by people giving their best, making you a friend along the way.  It works with Jesus too.  Keep it personal.  Ask for directions, follow the lead of your heart, dare to be brave in the spirit.  Go where few pastors dare go, where few Christians go, or have even heard of.  Find real life in Christ, and then encourage others.  Be the Tripadvisor.com for the gospel, your journey with Christ a daily life of excitement.  With no GPS points to reference, being guided by the spirit, making your own decisions.  Keeping your tank full, just in case that roads leads you farther than you anticipated.  Don’t limit your  travel to what is only found on a map, go further.  Feast on the word, be guided by His spirit, and live and eat well. Knowing that at the end of the day, you never rode alone.  So stretch out your map today, ask God “where does that road take me?”  Find out there is more to life than you think, and don’t limit yourself, or God.  Whether feasting at Abe’s, or on asphalt, feast on everything God has to offer.  And never go hungry, your stomach filled and your spirit content.  Let’s ride.  Right after I finish my last bite of pie.  Thanks Alton.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

resurrected bikes, and their riders

CRASH!  BAM!  It was all over in the blink of an eye, and I was laying between the road and my Bonneville, pinned under a car.  A car that had pulled away from the curb without looking, and hit me.  Biker down.  And the police told me it was my fault, which they finally recanted under pressure after they investigated.  Biker prejudice for all to see.  All the screw ups by Escondido PD is another story, but off I went to the hospital, and the Bonne to Mick.  I would never walk the same, but what of my bike?  My fun ride?  What would be her fate?  Left up to some impersonal insurance adjuster, that worked for her company?  And Mick gave me the choice, he could save it or total it, what to do?  I made the right choice-fix it, and he did, better than new, with some custom touches, a Scrambler short fender, and headlight and shorty front fender, just custom enough to still look stock.  Maybe even what the factory had considered.  Her insurance company paid for my medical and to fix the bike, and the event of  that March afternoon faded into history.  Until one sunny Saturday afternoon, October 17th to be precise, when riding with Theresa.  I had gotten ahead of her at the light, a Nissan Maxima between us.  And when the light changed to green, I accelerated....

And again BAM!  I was flying up in the air, then landing on the hood of the Nissan, then bouncing off, landing on my knees some 20 feet away!  Instant pain and confusion set in.  Biker down-again.  And the woman-again a woman gets out and tells me not to tell the police she was driving-she had  lost her license.  Not paying attention, she hit the gas by accident, looking back when her grand daughter in the back seat called her, and hit me full force, pushing my Bonneville, again, some 40 feet stuck in her front bumper.  So hard was I hit the bike never went down, and had to be pried out of her car!  The police were livid when they arrived, why she wasn’t arrested I don’t know, but found out she had breast cancer, and was terminal.  Sad, but still no excuse-she should not have been driving, JAIL her!  How many of us would have been shown the same mercy?  But the toughest part was for Theresa, as she had watched the whole thing happen, right in front of her.  And had to ride home alone on her Bonneville.  One tough, but tender lady. And I would heal, mostly with some after effects, and my Bonne again went to Mick.  Where the decision again had to be made-fix it or total it.  Again we fixed it, using parts he had, and actually came out OK on the deal, but would still be better if it hadn’t happened.  And my legs still hurt, I still walk with a limp, and still have the Bonneville.  Parts available for both, the bike easier to fix than my legs.   But still we ride....

Most are amazed that I still ride, but I take the attitude that I don’t want to spend life in fear of what can happen, I rather enjoy life, and yes I know that idiots in cars can be dangerous.  Just like guns that don’t kill, it takes the one holding it or driving it to cause the damage.  So no, motorcycles themselves are not dangerous, just as cancer victims aren’t, until they drive illegally, and irresponsibly.  And we meet by accident.  Then it may take all the king’s horses and all the king’s men to put you back together again.  Or a good attorney like I had, Leventhal and Shapiro, I cannot say enough good about Stan and Steve.  They won my case in less than a week, I got the money, and their fee was half of the usorous 33%.  I am careful who I recommend, they are the best, they do what they say, and they win.  A somewhat happy ending to a possible tragedy.

Now it has been said that resurrection power works best in graveyards.  You cannot resurrect something that wasn’t alive once.  Mickey resurrected the Bonneville, and she is still dragging her pegs at high speeds at 67,000 miles.  My body healed for he most part, although I am now permanently disabled.  Theresa still rides, and her Bonne has over 77,000 miles.  So we soldier on....But all could have ended in a worse tragedy-death.  And then what?  You can fix the body, repair the bike, even replace it if needed, but what about the soul?  What happens to a damaged, unsaved soul?  What happens to those who decide to wait to come to Christ, when I ‘m older?  And what if they never make it to older?  Planning to choose Jesus is still saying no-and no is no heaven.  Good intentions don’t count, being born again does.  Now I have visited and know many who have come to Christ near death, which better than dying without Him.  But we are warned that no one is promised tomorrow, who knows what lies behind you at any traffic light?  Who is ready to pullout and take away your life?  And yet some insist on waiting....some missing only the blessings they could have had, some missing altogether.  And it is their choice, just like it was mine and is yours.  Where will you be after death, tormented or resurrected?  No parts or fixes in hell- your life is now totaled.  It is the scrap heap, Gehenna as they called it, fueled by those who denied Christ, and burn forever.  But choosing Jesus guarantees you of what He did, being resurrected and heaven.  A better deal than any lawyer can get you, a better payoff than an insurance company can provide.  On earth I had Mickey, Steve and Stan, and Theresa.  And Jesus to represent me.  Without Jesus it would not have been successful.  But what if I had died, who would have represented me then?  Only Jesus, for on judgment day He is my wonderful counselor, who pleads my case, who took my sin, and will see I am found innocent.  He is the only way to heaven, without Him you plead your own case, before a loving, but honorable judge who knows all the specifics about you...and His mercy is denied you, you chose to deny Him here on earth.  And He honors your request, on earth as it could have been in heaven.  Over in the blink of an eye....no accident here, it is your choice.  So, what is your choice?

We all face death, but we don’t all face resurrection.  Only in Jesus Christ will we find salvation.  So why not enroll today.  Trust Him, and ride in the knowledge that when death do your motorcycle and you part, that you will be in heaven.  You have the ultimate insurance, and assurance in Jesus.  All things will truly pass away, and only He remains.  Now heaven is never described, except to say eye has not seen, no rear heard, nor mind imagined the things of God, but hell is described as darkness, extreme loneliness, the absence of God, the weeping and gnashing of teeth.  Burning fire in complete darkness, with no escape.  No last chance, no partying with friends.  Eternal separation from God.  Now it is time to make a choice.

When it comes to helmets, I believe “let those who ride decide.”  God gives you the same choice on your eternal destiny.  And your right now.  Give it up and gain everything, hold onto everything and lose everything.  Seems like an easy choice, don’t make it harder than it is.  Bikes and relationships on earth can be resurrected.  What happens after death only Jesus can resurrect.  I made the choice to follow Jesus.  My resurrection day is coming, in the blink of an eye, quicker than the accident I didn’t hear or see coming.  Death is that quick.  But so is eternal life....and so we ride on, how confident are you of where your ride will end?  What are you waiting for?  To me it is a who.....

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

Happy Birthday Dad, 1944

FDR concluded:

"Help us, Almighty God, to rededicate ourselves in renewed faith in Thee in this hour of great sacrifice..I ask that our people devote themselves in a continuance of prayer.

As we rise to each new day, and again when each day is spent, let words of prayer be on our lips, invoking Thy help to our efforts.

Give us strength...and, O Lord, give us Faith. Give us Faith in Thee...With Thy blessing, we shall prevail over the unholy forces of our enemy...

And a peace that will let all of men live in freedom, reaping the just rewards of their honest toil. Thy will be done, Almighty God. Amen."

If my dad had lived, he died in 2012, he would have been 86 years old today.  He just happened to have his birthday on D-Day, or was it D Day on his birthday.  But looking back to June 6, 1944, waking up that morning on his 16th birthday, little did he know what was going on, and how it would change the world.  A sophomore at Bangor High School, in Bangor, Pennsylvania, his yearbook that year would have sections listing those who were serving in WWII, those who planned to join up after graduation, and those killed in action.  With an unsure future ahead of him, the US of A was not winning the war at this point, he had two years until graduation, then decide whether to enlist like so many he knew in this town of 5000, or go to college.  Fortunately, by his next birthday, we had won a huge victory on D Day, and the war was over in Germany, May 8, 1945.  But still the specter of war hung over many because Japan had not fallen yet.  A lot to consider at 16 years of age.

In 1944 no cars had been built for almost two years.  Food was rationed, things like rubber tires, tin cans, and other things that could be recycled were for the war effort.  The US of A was just coming out of the Great Depression, and some thought the war helped, but many saw how war was hell on any front.  Men went off to fight in strange lands, and women took their jobs in the factories, with Rosie the Riveter being born.  As a nation we learned to sacrifice for the good of our country, and pray for it, as only God could intervene.  It is true that some on the enemy’s side too prayed, we both prayed for victory, ours was to restore peace, theirs to take it over.  Evil had shown in ugly head via Hitler, Mussolini, and Hirohito, and we were being led by a President who suffered from polio, and could barely walk.  Yet FDR’s fireside chats encouraged us to unite in one spirit, in one people, and as one nation.  And we did, and the outcome is well known.  We won! But not without heavy losses, both in the battle field, and at home.  We knew about the soldier’s loss, but what did those who stayed home at fought at the home front give up?

Bangor still resides in eastern Pennsylvania, in what is referred to as the Slate Belt.  Back when slate was used for chalkboards and roofs, t was quite prosperous, and when including the various mills for making clothing, and farming, was quite prosperous compared with today.  The mills are long gone, the slate long before that, with only empty slate quarries filled with water to remind them of a different time.  The mills empty, with graffiti, no one goes to Bangor anymore.  but in 1942, at the eve of our joining the war, from February, 1942 to April 1946 a local magazine was published, the only one of its kind during the war.  HOMEFRONT, the idea of J. Horace and his wife Mona Strunk.  Published from their home, it was sent free, a true glossy 8 1/2x11 magazine, not just mimeographed.  It was to encourage and inform their men at war about local news, letters from home, inspiration, and “the fairest of the month,” a local girl.  It is said that no one ever truly knew the impact it had on men far away from home, giving them a reminder of what they left behind, what they were fighting for, and an expectation of coming home after victory.  From 500 copies to eventually 8000, it brought the home front to the men and women over seas.  This was the time of my parents, and little did they know that in 1950 he would marry one Jeanne Murphy form neighboring Pen Argyl, who with her sister and others graced a cover.  My mother, a cover girl, and for what a cause. Just some girls from back home, sharing a Coke at the park, maybe there really was no place like home.  This was a war, like many others, fought by the young, laid out by the generals, and dictated by the Congress.  Many who never lived to reach old age, or even age 25.  Just like the many who stormed the beaches on my Dad’s 16th birthday.  And today we celebrate their effort, and their patriotism, and remember them in prayer, and the families and legacies they left behind.  One soldier even commenting how it made them all homesick, but couldn’t wait for each issue.  There is something about thinking of home, no matter where it is that draws us back.  So too all who served in WWII, and their families, a hearty word of thanks, and appreciation.  And to the Strunk’s, thanks for the memories, then and now.

Battles are fought on many levels, and we only see what is front of us, sometimes.  We get what the media feels we should get, and make our opinions from there.  And when times get tough, and the battles seem insurmountable, we turn to God.  “Where are you?  How could you let this happen?  What’s going on?”  Sometimes even losing hope, based on what we see, and don’t see.  But Jesus tells us different, that the things seen are temporal, the things not seen eternal.  And we often forget about a battle being fought right now in the heavenlies.  Where angels are fighting evil, and God has it all under control.  Where we only see the losing battles here, but cannot see the victories being won in heaven.  We fail to look to the cross, where the ultimate victory was won, and forget that in war we will not win every battle, but we do win the war.  That the final outcome is victory, and we will carry about those scars forever.  Which is why Jesus still shows His scars, to remind us of the horror of the war fought on the cross, and how His victory sets us free.  It is a reminder that in death we have victory, even though it eludes us here.  And a reminder that we are our brother’s keeper, that true love is laying down one’s life for his brother, and to seek Jesus first.  Those men on D Day knew they had a small chance to survive, saying goodbye maybe for the last time to the men around them.  But they fought for a cause, freedom, and proved once again that freedom isn’t free.  And that only the American soldier and Jesus were willing to die for that freedom, one for our lives, and one for the standard of living that god blessed our nation with.  And soon we will have only books and pictures left of these brave men, but Jesus lives forever.  He outlasts each and every generation, up to the last one, of which we may be part.  So as soldiers, it is important to remember where our home front is, and that we are fighting a battle in a war that has been won.  But the battle rages on....

We fight not against flesh and blood as the men in WWII did, but against evil in high places, evil spirits, and those angels cast down from heaven.  Take time to know that, and love your enemy.  But hate what he stands for.  Love the sinner, hate the sin.  Condemn no one, that is not your job.  Love and as you go, welcome others to the home front, and looking forward to hearing “well done my good and faithful servant.”  Every year I wonder what my Dad was thinking on that day, when I see him I will ask.  And like many others who make it to heaven, he will assure me that it was all worth it.  Only in Jesus.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com