schools dazed or tales of two cities

I am a Baby Boomer, born in the fifties, grew up in the sixties, graduated in the seventies, and had a family in the eighties.  But growing up in a suburban town in New Jersey had its fair share of difficulties almost 60 years ago.  My first address was on Westfield Road, Brennan lived in back on Westfield Road Circle, and only a block away was Westfield Avenue.  All in Scotch Plains.  A lot for any 5 year old to take, but when we moved to the other side of Scotch Plains that year, things got even more confusing.  My parents bought a house on Trenton Avenue, after almost buying one on Westfield Avenue,  finally moving to Scotch Plains, which had a Westfield mailing address.  And there was another Trenton Avenue about 1 mile away, with empty land with no road through it connecting the two.  You had to go through Fanwood, a small borough fully enclosed by Scotch Plains to connect the two.  So fearing problems, they changed the name to Mohawk Lane, until they found a Mohawk Lane in Westfield, which curiously enough could only be accessed from Scotch Plains.  So they changed it to Algonquin Drive and all went well and goes well to this day.  But only a few blocks away was Scotch Plains Avenue, in you guessed it, Westfield.  And my friend Eddie who lived in Scotch Plains and was a pretty good athlete, had a Westfield address, with both towns wanting him to play for them, and both laying claim to him.  Scotch Plains won out, not sure of the hows and whys,  but that chapter ends, but the story goes on.

I walked to kindergarten over a mile to La Grande Elementary School, crossing over two busy streets on the way.  But for first grade, was transferred to Shackamaxon, as Scotch Plains was growing and it demigraphics changing.  Although the kids only one block away went to La Grande still.  But for second and third grade I went to Brunner School, a new school that opened up, and was closer, and many of my friends and I were reunited, along with others.  Now just when you thought you had finally found a home, it was back to Shack for fifth and sixth grades.  It seems the train tracks going through our town were a line of demarcation, and I fell on the Shack side, even though Brunner was closer.  And friends up the street still went to La Grande!  With McGinn opening on our block the next year, thankfully I would be on to Junior High by then.  And in all this time my address never changed from Algonquin Drive in Scotch Plains, I mean Westfield.  Today by some happy coincidence, the mail is serviced by Scotch Plains, and its identity is fully realized.  You can only imagine the inner turmoil when somebody asked “where do you live? or “where did you go to school?”  But the story is almost over, as the tracks also told us where we went to Junior High, but both would go to a common high school, Scotch Plains Fanwood High School, on you guessed it, Westfield Road.  Schools dazed or dazed by schools, these are tales of two cities.

Imagine being new to Jerusalem and meeting Jesus.  He was from Nazareth, born in Bethlehem, but did most of his ministry in Jerusalem, and was known as the man from Galilee.  No record found of any public education.  And we know he had at least two brothers, James and Jude, half brothers.  Can you imagine the questions they had to answer.  So if Joseph is your dad, but not your brother, who is his dad?  Try explaining God to some fifth graders or their parents.  But didn’t Joe and Mary, your parents, have him when they were married?  Again, try explaining that one even today.  But the truth is God is the Father of Jesus, and Mary is his mother.  Joseph raised him, along with  his other sons, who became believers of his claims after they saw their brother resurrected.  You think government paper was bad now, try to fill out that one 2000 years ago, must have used a lot of space on the back.  Good thing Jesus never applied for food stamps, I can see him being denied instantly.  Section 8 housing....maybe, but tell me more about your real father first.  And how the kids at school must have talked, as we all know kids will.  And their parents.  And think of when something broke at home, they couldn’t blame Jesus, so it had to be the others.  And how come Jesus’ room was always clean, he was never late for dinner?  How come he always won at hide and seek?  Imagine growing up in the home with him at Christmas time?  They must have had one heckuva nativity scene!  Think of Joe trying to explain why he stayed with Mary, and didn’t have her served with divorce papers, which he could have.  But they stayed together for the children.  But really for God.  As we find that when Mary had doubts and questions, she pondered the things of God in her heart.  She knew what the Holy Spirit had told her, and both she and Joe knew she was a virgin, at least she was sure.  But Joe needed the same comforting, for he knew many questions would be asked, and he had no answers.  He already had questions with no answers, so God intervened and comforted him. And somehow they both trusted God, raised a family, and the oldest son went into the priesthood.  And would die a horrible death at an early age, his mother at the cross when he died.  His brothers believing his claims only a few weeks later after they saw him resurrected.  And both writing New Testament books bearing heir names, James and Jude.  So maybe all my early childhood confusion had an earlier start, and all ended well, despite humble beginnings.  Just like in the Bible.

And yes, it only took me 21 years to come to know Jesus personally.  Maybe about the same time it took their brothers.  But we were both saved by the same Holy Spirit, the same spirit that impregnated Mary, that comforted Joe and Mary, that saw him crucified and resurrected, and who saw his brothers become believers.  And is still changing the hearts of millions today.  Times are still tough today, and will continue to be until Jesus calls us home.  Until then when our reservation in heaven is filled, we struggle everyday wondering who we are, and why we are here.  Again Jesus is the answer.  He has a place for us in heaven with our Heavenly Father, right next to him.  Our citizenship confirmed in the Book of Life.  No forwarding address cards to fill out, no street names to remember, and no alumni functions to attend.  No changing schools, it takes a change of heart to be guaranteed of heaven, it takes Jesus.  So maybe the easiest and most correct answer is I’m just passing through.  Jesus did, and we all shall.  The final destination up to us, and there is no confusing heaven and hell-there is a difference, and you cannot get out of hell, and you won’t want to leave heaven.  Jesus knows that, and now you do too.  Boomers of all generations welcome...take it from a kid from Scotch Plains, there is no place like heaven.  Home.  See you at the reunion.  Just don’t call me Old School, School will be enough.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

what's up?

The word “up” has more meanings and connotations attached to it than any other word found in the English language.  So next time someone asks “what’s up?” you may consider what is up before you answer.  The sun came up this morning, it is time to wake up, and shower up before show up at work.  You lathered up in the shower, while your wife put on her make up, waited for your toast to pop up, and had trouble with your car starting up.  Maybe the battery needed charging up, or the car needs a tune up.  Or maybe it is time to trade up.  Your first stop is to pick up your coworker, then get stuck behind a Prius in the fast lane.  After being held up, you try to make up time by passing the Prius, only to see a cop catching crooks in a hold up, they are with their hands up, up against the wall.  I guess the jigs up.  Stop for a coffee for a pick me up, and you are glad you took your pick up, so you can pick up your dirt bike after work.  They were fixing the upper shock towers.  You finally arrive at work, where your secretary is going through a break up, needs extra make up, and can’t seem to keep up.  Your wife later calls you up, and asks you if you are up to tonight’s plans?  You are tired, you were up late watching football, the game almost over and your team marching up the field, when they had to review a play, and the decision was upheld, not in your favor.  “It’s up to you honey,” you say.  And she says she is tired too, one of the kids was sick and throwing up.  Seems in gym he had to do too many sit ups, and push ups, and now can only throw up.  But really it started because he was told to hang up his clothes, put his shoes up on the shelf, and his story Is not quite on the up and up.

The playoffs are on, and as you listen on the way home, you hear batter up, then who’s up next, and how the champs have their backs up against the wall after losing the first two games.  It is up to their star lefty to get them going, but most fans have given up.  Stopping quick, you spill your latte, wishing you had a Bounty, the quicker picker upper, and wish you could just pick up and leave on vacation.  Maybe the Upper Peninsula, taking a train, sleeping in the upper birth.  When the low fuel light goes on, reminding you to fill up before you run out.  Up ahead is a station, you fill up, and then get home.  But overall it had been a good day, the Dow was up, your stocks were up, but so was the price of gas.  You were tired, but feeling up beat, despite being beat up all day, maybe you would go out tonight, after all it is up to you.  So it is upstairs to change, call up for reservations, and hope there are no further hold ups.  Saturday is here, the temperature is up, your spirits are up, but your bike won’t start?  Again what’s up?  Didn’t I fill the tank up?  Is the oil filled up?  Going through a mental check list, are all the blanks filled up?  Then you notice your green sticker is expired, the year is up, time to renew.  Meanwhile the Fifth Dimension sings in the background “up, up , and away” and you just can’t get up the energy anymore.  If only the guy at the shop had been up front with you about the condition of your ride, now you’d just like to shoot up the place.  Maybe a 7-Up to calm you down, and you remember their old tag line “make 7-Up yours.”  Up to now it has been a rough couple of days...

The a neighbor stops by, he just got a call from his CO it is time to re-up, and he wonders if he is up to another tour?  His last one led to a break up of his marriage, they made up, but he doesn’t know what to do.  With the upheaval in the Navy, he rather have a job in the upper echelon than below the decks.  Fed up, he won’t re-up, averting a breakup.  His blood pressure was up, maybe it all will change now.  But he wants you to have a burger with him, do you want ketchup on it?  Or is it catsup?  You watch as your kids play flies up,  thinking your time is about up, when up comes the burger, and up until now you didn’t know how hungry you were.  Better than going through the drive-up at McDonald’s.  “Order up,” he calls jokingly to you.  This is better than warmed up left overs you think.  You brighten up, maybe time to polish up the car, lock up the house, get dressed up and go out.  But then he realizes the drain is stopped up, and he is about to crack up!  He is so mixed up, that when it starts to rain, the gutters fill up, and he can’t wait for the sun to dry up the sidewalks. 

Maybe it is time to wrap up now, before I crack up.  Before I am told to shut up!  And heading for bed, I am reminded of the first thing you do when you wake up, and the last thing before going to bed-U P!  So many uses for up, if you don’t believe me, look it up!  I didn’t make this up!

Up was no stranger to the Bible either.  It is only mentioned 2134 times in the King James!  From creation when a mist went up from the earth, and then there was an upheaval in heaven.  To Noah being sealed up in the ark, to the waters drying up.  Then Abram went up to Egypt, Lot was told to get up and out of Sodom and Gomorrah, and finally Abraham giving up the ghost at an old age.  God desired to bring the children up out of bondage, while God reminds us he lifts us up.  Oh, have mercy upon us Lord.  And when enemies rise up against us, he lifts us out of trouble.  He is able to burn up the chaff in our life.  But the best is still to come... Jesus.

The wise men looked up for a star to guide them, God was up to something.  He was about to give us a heavenly treasure, reminding us not to store up our treasures here on earth.  He fed 5000 after looking up to heaven and giving thanks, picking up 12 baskets when they were done, and someday we will be caught up in the clouds to meet him.  Meanwhile we are to take up our cross and follow him.  Knowing we will be given up to councils to share our faith, but he will give us the words.  Peter’s nets were full up with a catch, but we would be fishers of men, fulfilling a prophecy.  And later he met with them in the upper room, before being taken up in a cloud for all to see.  And so we are to lift up our voices in praise and worship, for it is all up to him now.  We are to be built up in the faith, and lifting up holy hands to him.  And finally we know of the day, where he told John to “come up hither and see the things which are to come.”  And while the unsaved will call up from hell forever and ever, the devil will be shut up there forever and ever, while we are up in heaven with Jesus. For the time is upon us, and we should be ready for that upward call any day.  How can you feel down now when you can lookup and see what is ahead for those that believe?

So don’t keep your light under a basket, or shut up about the things of God.  In the upper room things changed, but they all changed that day when Jesus was up on the cross.  Upheld for all to see, and since he is lifted higher, we shall all live in glory when we get up there.  So what’s up?  Maybe it can be defined in just one word-JESUS.  Accept him before time’s up.  He knows what you are up to, the rest is up to you.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot

the grand opening or you're in good hands

It is 1960, and a young mother with two children, a son and a daughter, goes to the new Shop Rite grand opening up on Route 22.  It is tough feeding a family on a teacher’s salary, so she looks for bargains, and today they are not in short supply.  But with all celebrating that goes on with a new store opening, and this was a huge store for back then, no big deal compared to today, and many vendors are sampling their products.  While walking down a crowded aisle,a man approaches, and begins to talk to her, and soon her son, about 6 years old, is whisked off with a young woman.  Not knowing what is going  on, he is happily led to the book/magazine section, and told to pick out whatever he wants-such a deal.  He chooses a book about a man and his bulldozer, and after a few minutes is escorted back to his mother.  All the time his younger sister, about 3 has been sitting in the cart. She doesn’t get a book, and her brother doesn’t ask why or what happened.  It is not until they get home that he finds out the truth.

It seems this man who approached his mother, worked for a public relations firm, and was asking questions about products women used to clean around the house.  His mother had answered “that green stuff,” and when he confirmed she meant Comet Cleanser, he proceeded to interview her.  All the time the tape was rolling, she was making an on the spot TV commercial, and one day her words would speak to millions across the US of A, telling them how well Comet cleans and how she uses it.  Her husband is amazed and amused, and she will get residuals every time it is aired.  They had just bought a new home, and were finishing the upstairs adding a den and bedroom, and the money earned while shopping that day would pay for it all, including furnishing it.  And although it aired many times, I did manage to see it a few times, and there they were, my sister sitting impatiently in the cart, and my mother answering the leading questions, all the time not knowing she was going to be on TV.  Giving honest answers, telling her testimony of Comet Cleanser, and later getting endorsement checks.  Big money for then, and at the time I thought I got the best of the deal, I got the book on bulldozers!

You may have seen the Allstate ads for motorcycle insurance, one with Nate Hudson of BA-Moto.  Nate, or Nathan as we know him, is like one of our sons, and has been for years.  He tells me of how he had a friend who made commercials, and was asked to do a burnout for one, they liked it, and he made a short burnout and got paid for it.  So impressed were they, they asked him to model for an ad, and he made big bucks for a struggling, young business owner.  And suddenly there he is, for all to see on a Triumph, not his, he rides a Scrambler, and has for almost 100,000 miles, even gone to Alaska and back in a week.  But here he is, and fame has found him when he least expected it.  Maybe the most important, and definitely the most profitable burnout he ever did.  Two people, separated by almost 55 years, by chance given opportunities to voice an opinion, and both ended up getting compensated for it.  Maybe the dream job for any of us, getting paid for just giving our opinions....burnouts extra.  Where do I apply?

You may not be paid for your opinions, but every day we give them to whoever listens.  By what we ride, what we clean with, or where we go to church, our opinions, many times unspoken will precede us, and leave a lasting impression.  It has been said, and accurately noted, that you may be the only Bible some will ever read.  Someone is always watching your actions, listening to your words, and willing to comment on them.  We are told to be witnesses of Christ, but we aren’t told when that event may occur.  And for many of us, we are glad the cameras aren’t rolling, and the event not captured on a cell phone to be used against us later.  But many who have been identified as a Christian will be called to testify for Jesus today, and will not be prepared.  An event will take place, and their reaction will be a Bible many will see, some reacting “see I told you so, they are all hypocrites,” or “wow, something is different about them.  I wonder what it is?”  And we are given a chance to tell them about Jesus either way.  Some will cower when accused of being a hypocrite, and being told the church is full of them, to which I respond, “it isn’t full, there is always room for one more.”  But the one I prefer is when they see Jesus in my response, and ask questions.  To which God always has the answers I need, just like he said he would, which you would know if you actually read your Bible,  but for now must assume I am telling the truth.  Jesus never wandered from the truth, but told it in love.  Whether at the well with a woman, another time when a woman was about to be stoned, or when a man was asked about gaining his sight, Jesus told the truth.  So we can depend on him now as we can in the future.  His words still touching and changing hearts today as they have for over 2000 years.  And despite all our failures, still chooses us as his PR firm to declare his story of salvation.

Revelation tells us we are saved “by the blood of the lamb, and the word of our testimony.”  Some may doubt Jesus’ words of truth, but our testimony carries weight.  We were there, we bore witness, and now we can be a witness.  And we are given the chance to bear witness everyday, we just aren’t told when, where, how, or to whom we will witness.  55 years later my parents upstairs still bears testimony of my mother’s TV interview, one she was totally unaware of, but was able to see her compensation.  She never did get to see all those who bought Comet because of her words.  Nathan will never see how many bought Allstate because of his burnout, but he was compensated well for it.  We are given the opportunity to see the results of our unpaid witnessing in heaven.  I just know someone will come up to me there, and say “aren’t you the guy who shared Jesus and the miracle he did with your heart?”  Or “I heard you not backing down, yet not arguing with that guy who insulted your Jesus, and it gave me encouragement to be bolder in my witness.”  I only know I won’t hear “I denied Jesus because you were a hypocrite.”  That is their choice, as choosing Jesus is yours.  I’ll hear “well done my good and faithful servant,” from God.  In heaven.  The spirit convicts, if it were solely my testimony no one would get saved.  It takes the blood the lamb, Jesus, who was slain so we can be forgiven and live, who saves souls.  We just get to be part of it, so we can give him more glory, to be more encouraged to tell others, and to be strengthened in our walk with him.  The cameras are rolling, you have been given your script, the Bible, and your director the Holy Spirit is directing your paths.  Someone may make a decision for Christ based on your commercial, your Bible today.  An ad that many will see, but only one may respond to.  A grand opening to eternal life, when you least expect it.

And like the ad says, “white noise is dangerous.”  And offers a guarantee.  A pretty good one.  But only Jesus offers a lifetime, an eternal guarantee.  No white noise, and burnouts are welcomed.  And you thought riding a motorcycle was dangerous.  And I wish I still had that bulldozer book.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

mad truck disease

I like old trucks. They have a certain smell, a certain patina, and a certain attitude all their own.  For me it started at about age 5, I can still remember the 1959 Fords building houses in our old neighborhood.  Not really sure what a Ford was, I must have heard it somewhere, but I thought all trucks were Fords.  I was to learn later, when moving, that an old Dodge Job Rated pickup across the street from the early fifties enlightened me.  But soon big trucks, real trucks, trucks meant to work and build things came into my life.  Building the new development across Hetfield Ave. meant Public Service gas company trucks, 1 ton canopy trucks pulling compressors, for jack hammers.  Cement trucks from Wel-Don pouring curbs and gutters, and graders filling in between with gravel.  And big dump trucks, B Model Macks, GMC’s, and Internationals, all hauling asphalt for Hetfield Avenue’s resurfacing.  It was Ollie Howarth’s GMC dump truck with a trailer pulling his backhoe, and his long, lowboy flat bed for bulldozers and steam shovels, sans steam.  It was a truck junkies world to live in, and the early sixties with subdivisions being built was the place to be.  It gave me Mad Truck Disease, suddenly all my Tonkas had names, I knew the drivers from countless hours sitting as close as possible without getting in the way.  Teams of men swinging shovels, shaking with jack hammers, and using words I never heard before, but knew not to repeat at home. 

And at night after the crews had gone home, we would go and look closer at the construction equipment, daring to sit on bulldozers, climb into the cab of graders, and stare up at the steam shovels, wondering what all the black handles were for, half afraid we might get caught, even more afraid if we were asked if we wanted to sit on them.  But it was the trucks, the dump trucks, the flat bed semis, the cement trucks, and other large trucks that made me decide at the time I wanted to drive one.  Even a cool 1960 Chevy with the heavy eyebrows, caked with mud.  Sneaking a peek next door at Ollie’s GMC, enough to make a young man’s mind go crazy and dream. It was cool watching the cement truck driver spray off the chute with his hose, after guiding its load to perfection.  And finally the smell of fresh asphalt, which still smells good to me today, from a line of big dump trucks.  D&L Construction’s big B Model Macks in procession, then back home to the Tonkas.  With Joey’s Big Mike, a dual axle dumper my favorite, and with my name on it, made it even cooler.  We had our own construction projects, damming up the gutters, flooding them with water, and then bulldozing them down and starting over.  But somehow it wasn’t the same, maybe in our minds, but the men that worked them never got called in for dinner, never had to clean up, and even ate their lunch on the tailgates.  Sometimes buying them from Canteen trucks, the precursor to the roach coach.  Even Cisco in his 1952 Ford Good Humor truck was good on any hot summer afternoon.  It was all about the trucks, it seemed they were the most important aspect of my life, and someday I would own one.  Building, hauling, and dumping-making America great.  If only I cold wait 20 years....

But not all trucks were for construction.  I remember the coal truck at my Grandpa’s house, raising its bed in the air, then dumping it down a shoot.  I remember Nana’s fuel oil truck with its 100’ hose parked out front.  The time a dump truck got stuck in the mud in our back yard.  Watching the Railway Express trucks predating UPS at the train station.  Route 22 filled with semis, the smell of diesel, grease and oil, and of brakes and clutches burning.  All were part of Mad Truck Disease for which there is no cure.  And somehow over the years driving anything from bottle trucks to bobtails to semis, it hasn’t been the same.  It seems that the dreams seen through younger eyes, when they are still wide open, is the best, but demanding even more.  And with today’s trucks a little more than heavy duty cars with pick up beds, add in SUV’s and trucks are a sad commentary on what they used to represent.  It took men, tough men who got dirty to work in trucks, now  I’m not so sure.  Sitting in an air conditioned cab, using a i-pad to determine loads, take me back.  They aren’t the cure, but only make me want the old trucks even more.  There is no cure for Mad Truck Disease, and as long as the memories can be remembered, the disease will continue.  At least at my house I hope it does. 

Being a Christian for almost 40 years, I have changed a lot.  And so has the church.  Saturday night services, mega churches, on line churches, and digital Bibles.  In some ways I fell like we don’t get down and dirty in our walk any more, we have too many committees, budgets, and polls on what people want.  We have forgotten to ask God what he wants.  Big screens have taken over for small meetings at home, too many leave Jesus in church, or as an old boss told me, “it only makes sense not to bring God to work.”  So many don’t.  We don’t see spiritual construction projects the same, true we have Harvest Crusades, and retreats, but we are missing the neighborly visits, the spontaneous meetings on the front yard, and that it is all about Jesus.  We need to get back to our roots, we have become an air conditioned work truck never getting dirty, that’s for someone else.  We miss the chance to build relationships because the people may stink, they may have tubes running out of them, or be in jail.  We are missing out on the one to one gospel sharing, and rather than becoming a team, have become a crowd.  Some pass out tracts, “let God sort them out,” they say.  While others pick up the tracts thrown on the ground.  Some stand on corners and yell, scaring me away.  Some invite others to church, over and over.  Never listening to them, just talking.  No way to build any relationship, or any road.  Maybe that is why I like old trucks, they are simple like the gospel.  Built to do a job, not pretty, but functional, their beauty coming from within.  Not afraid to get dirty, to just do their job day after day.  Year after year.  Letting the creator guide them, following his plans.  Like the gospel is, and should be.  I have this weird idea that if we all did as Jesus instructed, we would all be happier, more successful, and see church growth like never before.  Share with the Lazarus God puts in your way.  Pour love on them.  Be kind and good to all, a fruit of the spirit.  Listen to them, build a relationship, and let them see God in you.  Introduce the spirit in your life, and watch as roads are graded, bridges built, and lives changed.  All by Jesus.  You just get to drive the truck.  Or the grader.  You get to pour cement, but God provides the growth.  Like any worthwhile project it takes teamwork.  With Jesus at the head.  Maybe we need a little Mad Truck Disease to spread through the church, to get us excited again, to be the kid in Christ we are called to be.  Maybe it’s time to let God be God, for all men are liars.  To trust him daily, to see a family built using all its members.  Maybe climb up in the cab with him and see where you are going...according to his plans. 

It is time to bring back Mad Truck Disease.  To go forth with the gospel following the plans of Jesus.  To get excited,and be excited about him.  Let the pretty boys sit in their air conditioned tomb, I want to get out where the action is, where Jesus is.  I want to smell grease, taste the gas in the air, see the dirt move, and touch lives.  I want to see Jesus....wish I hadn’t sold all my old Tonkas now.  Big boy toys come in all shapes and sizes.  Regardless of their age, some never are put away.  Don’t put away Jesus, get him out and go back to the basics.  Paul bulldozed, Apollos graded, but it was Jesus that provided the growth. 

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

the mechanic's car

My long departed friend Rex was one of the best all around mechanics I ever knew.  He could diagnose and fix most things, and have them running better in no time than by the manual.  So in his spare he was rewriting the technical manuals for Suzuki motorcycles, this back in the early 1980’s.  Per Suzuki.  He could find problems others didn’t think to look for, on one ride to Arches National Park, the battery went dead on my KZ750.  When it wouldn’t start, Rex noted my tail light was brighter than he thought it should be, and found my rear brake pedal adjusted too tight, keeping the brake light on, running down the battery.  A few seconds with a 10 mm wrench, a push start, and trip and bike both fixed.  Needless to say, I check all brake lights on bikes I ride since then. But like all mechanics I have known since entering the automotive field as an Assistant Service Manager for Ford, his vehicles were always in need of repair.  And older models, that ran well, just needed a few things.  His 1972 Gran Torino took him regularly between Prescott and Durango, yet it shook so bad at 40 because it needed a U-joint, which he had in a box at work, but never installed.  And didn’t worry about it, “I just don’t drive 40,” was his reasoning.  His XS750 always needed a quart of oil, but always one quart down, heaven help us if we we didn’t top ours off.  But I found that to be more normal, as good techs know what works, what won’t, and what you better fix right now.  Their cars and motorcycles are always in process, they never have time to work on their own, probably because they are working on ours at night after work.  From Mercedes Benz to Ford, over 37 years it has never changed.  bike or car, truck or RV, Harley or Honda, it doesn’t matter, they’ll fix it when they get to it....whenever that may be.  And they are always are the ones who never break down when riding.  Meanwhile for those of us who live by the maintenance schedule, we call guys like Rex and Mickey.  Who after the “didn’t I tell you to fix this,” speech, fix us up, get us going and all is well, until the next time.  Maybe if we rode their vehicles instead of ours.....

And there is the story of the shoemaker, whose kids’ shoes always need replacing.  My girlfriend in high school family owned a shoe store, named Paula’s Shoes after her.  But in all the time I knew her, she only had one pair of new shoes each year.  Maybe function before form, the money saved to be used on her mother’s weekly appointments at the hair stylist before going out Saturday nights, never thought to look at her shoes.  But like Rex and motorcycles, she got by just fine, at least her parents didn’t cut back on clothes.  Good thing an uncle didn’t sell dresses.  So we see a pattern forming, or one that has formed, almost to the point of surpassing urban legend status, and becoming law of the land.  Think about the jobs your friends’ fathers had when growing up, from yards to bikes, from selling cars to fixing them, they knew how to just get by.  Maybe because they were just getting by.  Providing food and clothes for a family, just cautious in the shoe or car department.  After all shoes would wear out anyway, and cars were traded every two years.  So no need to hurry up and wait, there will always be next year.  Or the next ride.  But for the rest of us, we kept the system full and operating.  Or found another way to work when our cars broke down.

PK’s, or preacher’s kids, have always had a tough time.  Very few I knew growing up, or even now, turn out as righteous as their parents hope they do.  They have been raised knowing all the rules, making all the sacrifices to not miss church, to say the right things, and to not embarrass God.  Maybe not in that order, but close.  They face extreme peer pressure from church, then at school, then at home, knowing all the rules, but sometimes breaking them and getting caught, while larger offenses go unnoticed or unpunished.  We are told to “honor our mother and father,” and it is the first command with a reward.  But we are also told that as parents, we should “not provoke our children to wrath.”  And of course we don’t learn that one until we are parents, it seems we always have a rule or two to be reminded of when we slip up, how nice those who remind us always do it in love.  Or so they say.  But we are told in Romans 8, to have our mind set on the spirit.  Which is hard enough after being told right from wrong continuously.  And when the spirit comes in conflict with the law, who generally wins?  The law, as it spelled out right there, the spirit sometimes means taking a chance.  And will only be known by you and God, leaving others to judge.  Many times wrong.  But Paul is reaching deeper, but not so deep we cannot get it when he writes this.  For although it is the flesh vs. the spirit, it is not the flesh vs. the law.  And without the spirit, we will fail, and not know it. 

Fun, making money, and living life may be against some interpretation of the law, but are not wrong in themselves.  But if they are all you live for, then they are.  It is OK to have fun, make money, and enjoy life, just not at the expense of others.  Proverbs is filled with many examples of good advice.  Living in the spirit means that above all you seek God first, while showing love and compassion to others.  it is OK to have nice things, just so they don’t own you.  To travel to nice places, just so church is on the list near the top.  Being careful not to ignore God, and honor the creation rather than the creator.  So it comes down to value systems, and just like yuppies know the price of everything, but don’t know the value of anything, you don’t have to be a yuppie to sin.  You can have fun, ride nice motorcycles, and travel at the same time as giving glory to God.  It is our choice, God first or a new BMW.  Feed the poor, or another new pair of shoes.  It is seeing things from God’s point of view, rather than our own.  We must change to God’s ways to see God.  And so he sent Jesus.

I have some Christian friends who think it is not right I ride so many new bikes, they are jealous.  Yet miss the fact that God knows my passion for motorcycles, and fulfills it.  He is the connection to Mickey and Triumph, why be bitter when you can be better?  Your value system changes when you look at it through God’s eyes, and walk in the spirit.  It is a choice...the spirit doesn’t remove you from life, it puts you back in it.  And you find life, whereas before you knew all the things you shouldn’t do.  If your whole relationship with God is based on rules and regulations, you are under bondage as was a Pharisee.  Ask God to reveal his spirit, it was good enough to lead you to Christ, it will be good enough to lead you through life.  See things from God’s point of view, it makes all the difference.  For the rest, I’ll stand by Groucho’s advice, “I would never join a club that would have me as a member.”  The law.  Legalism.  The law convicts, the spirit gives life.  It knows when to buy new shoes, or fix your car.  Or your life.  God has all the answers you need, if only you listen.  Honor your father today, walk in his spirit.  For like the rest of you, I never met a law I couldn’t break.  And only Jesus forgives.  In the spirit, gives the term “stop in the name of the law”  a whole new meaning.  Only the spirit knows what works, what doesn’t, and what better be done right now.  Pay me now, or pay me later.  Works in life as well as oil filters.

love with compassion,

Mike

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