happiness is...a biker's viewpoint

Way back in the sixties, Charles Schulz, he of Charlie Brown fame, launched a series of “Happiness is...” cartoons.  The one we all remember is that of Linus hugging his blanket, sucking his thumb, “Happiness is a warm blanket.” And soon everyone from MAD magazine to school teachers had America extolling their Happiness is... list.  And I even had a sweatshirt, yellow with the cartoon of Linus sucking his thumb, blanket in hand, on it.  Yellow if I remember correctly.  So just to prove that if you can remember the sixties you weren’t there, here is my list, updated 50 years of my “happiness is...from a biker’s viewpoint.”

Happiness is riding motorcycles.  Happiness is time and money to tour on them.  Happiness is 85 degrees, low humidity, and a tailwind.  Happiness is seeing a gas station just when going on reserve.  Happiness is a warm jacket.  Warm gloves.  Happiness is making your last payment.  Happiness is waking up in a different time zone.  Happiness is outrunning a big storm.  Happiness is a red light flashing approaching, and it passes you and stops someone else.  Happiness is riding an hour for breakfast.  Happiness is watching the sun rise in Key West.  And watching it set in Key West.  Happiness is Albuquerque sunsets.  Happiness is your first new bike.  Happiness is the next 25...each time a new happiness.  Happiness is a wife who loves to ride with you.  Happiness is when she is your best friend.  Happiness is your regular bike shop staying open so you can get the part you need that night, the day before leaving.  Happiness is another biker stopping to help you when broken down.  Happiness is the brotherhood of bikers waving to each other.  Happiness is finding that special t-shirt from a trip you thought you lost.  Happiness is putting it away and saving it.....  Happiness is leaving on a cool morning, anticipating the warmth later.  Happiness is taking off the jacket, then the sweatshirt, and riding in a t-shirt all day.  Happiness is arriving at your motel and the pool is open.  Happiness is free seconds at the BBQ pit.  Happiness is the car ahead paying your toll.  Happiness is the toll booth operator waving you through in the rain...brotherhood.  Another happiness.  Happiness is no chicken strips.  Happiness is new tires and a trip to break them in on.  Happiness is riding press bikes for Triumph.  Happiness is having neighbors who ride.  Happiness is a pickup with loading ramp.  For others, too.  Happiness is making the ride you are on your favorite.  Happiness is motorcycle only parking.  Happiness is planning your next tour over the winter, and counting the days until you leave.  Happiness is leaving the city behind...and new roads you never rode on before.  Happiness is a family that rides motorcycles.  Happiness is reading about a place and having been there.  And happiness is just being able to ride, and living your dream.  Happiness is motorcycling.

But misery is your bike won’t crank over.  Misery is the new bike you lusted for being replaced by something faster-right after you buy it.  Misery is replacing the oil and watching it puddle on floor when you forgot to replace the drain plug.  Misery is pulling in the clutch with a cast.  Misery is a motel that doesn’t like bikers.  Misery is riding in the rain.  More misery is waiting too long to put on your rain suit.  Misery is a headwind, and trying to maintain 60 mph.  Misery is the instructions not in English.  Misery is standard tools for metric bolts.  Real misery is Whitworth anything!  Misery is switching to reserve and finding you already were on reserve.  Misery is waiting for the road call.  Misery is marrying a woman who doesn’t ride.  Misery is having friends whose wives do.  Misery is a cancelled biker night, after you rode 50 miles to attend.  Misery is getting stopped by the police, after passing a woman on her cell weaving in front of them.  Misery is night court.  Misery is Junction, Texas the #1 speed trap in the US of A. Misery is having the fastest bike, and having to prove it.  Misery is something not covered by warranty.  Misery is the warranty running out the night before it breaks.  Misery is back ordered parts.  Misery is a broken faceshield.  Misery is some loud motorcyclist who thinks you all love the loud distorted song playing on his stereo.  Misery is cars not looking for bikes.  Misery is not owning a motorcycle.  And the biggest misery of all is not being able to ride.

But real happiness is joy.  Joy is knowing Jesus.  Joy is the peace that goes with it.  Joy is the times spent riding in prayer.  Joy is waking early and riding before anyone else is up.  Joy is Christian friends to ride with.  Joy is living in the spirit.  Joy is being forgiven.  Joy is being healed miraculously, and being able to prove it.  Joy is a loving church.  Joy is marrying the one who God gave you.  Joy is praying for a friend.  Real joy is praying for an enemy.  Joy is being saved.  Joy is seeing a friend saved.  Joy is sharing the gospel.  Joy is watching God take us through problems.  Joy is falling asleep in prayer, waking up in prayer at 3am, and ending the same prayer when you wake up the next morning.  Joy is watching God meet all your needs.  Joy is Jesus evident in your life.  Joy is anticipating heaven when we die.  Joy is not worrying because God has it all under control.  Joy is the comfort of the Holy Spirit.  Joy is worship music.  Joy is finding what the spirit showed you in the Bible.  Joy is the scripture coming alive.  Joy is knowing your family is saved.  Joy is being a Christian biker, and seeing the world through God’s eyes.  Joy is this ride, and the anticipation of the next.  Joy is a life with Jesus.

But misery is not knowing Christ.  Misery is no joy, no peace.  Misery is not praying, but wondering.  Misery is being the only one who isn’t saved, and afraid of hell.  Misery is not trusting God when you are saved.  Misery is bad doctrine, bad religion.  Misery is a bad marriage.  Misery is children who are lost.  Misery is tossing and turning and not sleeping when having a problem.  Misery is fear of the unknown.  Misery is worrying about anything, or everything.  Misery is denying the spirit.  Misery is living under legalism.  Misery is knowing you are not going to heaven because of bad doctrine telling you you aren’t good enough.  Misery is trying to be good enough and failing.  Misery is losing hope.  Misery is denying the holy spirit.  Misery is thinking you can work it out.  Misery is thinking you are a good person.  Misery is believing a lie.  Misery is dying without Jesus.  Real misery is eternal suffering in hell.  Misery is not choosing Jesus.  Misery is being lonely.  Misery is no joy because of no Jesus. 

But to those who believe, we have joy in the midst of suffering when our bike won’t start.  Or it rains on a ride.  Or the shop is closed or the part backordered.  We carry Jesus with us in all situations, knowing we win in the end.  That momentary light afflictions only show how God’s strength is made perfect in them.  That joy is not the absence of suffering, but the presence of God.  And of Jesus.  This is just a short list of mine, but you can see the difference Jesus makes in my life.  If your list of happiness doesn’t include him, trust him today.  Find that happiness is based on events joy is based on Jesus.  Get more from your ride with Christ, and never look back.  The best rides are still ahead.  Two wheels may set your soul free, only Jesus can save it.  Happiness is the joy of the Lord.  Amen.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com 

your fault or the asphalt

Chicken Strip: The area of the surface of a motorcycle tire not showing any wear because the rider doesn't lean the bike over far enough to contact that portion of the tire with the road. Goes from the very outside edge of the tire, inward. A person really shouldn't worry themselves with chicken strips, but it is supposedly a sign of rider ability and skill if you don't have any. If a rider only rode in a straight line, a tire would have two inches of chicken strips on each side of the tire or more. A normal rider usually has 3/4 to 1 inch of chicken strips. Those that are able to lean their bike way over (hopefully from track riding, not street) might have little to no chicken strips. 

The major problems with laws is that they tell us no.  And we don’t like the word no.  Laws restrict us in everything we do.  Thou shalt not is the way many view Christians and Christianity, just a group of laws and telling me how to live.  How to not have fun, don’t do this, don’t do that.  And sadly they are correct in many cases, as many do not live in spiritual freedom after coming to Christ.  We witness that Jesus will set you free from sin, then hit them with a new set of rules of how to live.  And go from one binding situation to another.  It is called religion, whose base word means binding, as to tie up or tie down.  To restrict.  And although we admire a religious person from afar, we don’t want to live under rules.  I know I don’t, which makes me a rebel among rebels, for those who come to Christ have rebelled against sin, winning the only way possible, Jesus Christ.  Hence the name Christians, which means little Christs, a name when first given 2000 years ago was given mockingly.  And today many still are mocked for their walk with him.  And no rules, laws, or religion can set you free from it.  You will only experience true freedom in the spirit....which is given when saved, yet many neglect.  Trying to get by on their own.  Jesus saves, we try to get by on our own.  By our own set of rules, our own religion....bounded by it and not realizing it.  The gospel of us being the one we live by, whether we will admit it or not.  So get over it, and into the spirit!

It takes Jesus to be a Christian, yet many also think riding a motorcycle makes you a motorcyclist.  Just like standing in your garage doesn’t make you a car, or sitting in church a pew, riding a bike just makes you a rider.  It is when you develop a relationship with riding, when you experience the freedom, when you rather ride in the rain than sit in a car with the heater on you start to get it.  When your motorcycle becomes a personal thing, you have developed a relationship with it.  Color, size, sound, and where and how you ride are important.  Also who you ride with, or who you don’t.  It goes beyond reading the ads, or visiting a dealer.  It is more than sitting on a new bike and seeing how it fits.  It is the freedom of the ride, the ride becoming the destination.  It is when the motorcycle has equal or preferential space in the garage, not just covered or left out.  It becomes a part of you, and as you ride more, you become one with the road.  Any road, and soon what was once a trained response becomes a natural reaction.  No more mechanical actions, your ride flows.  You take care of your bike and it takes care of you.  And if you don’t it is your fault, and when you do it is the asphalt.  Some wrench, some ride.  Some read all about it, some experience.  Some make excuses, some memories.  Some have great expectations of places to ride, some only commute.  Some ride only on weekends, some only every day.  Some ride with their spouses, some are forced to ride alone.  Some look forward to their next ride, some are just enduring the one they are on.  And some get everything out of riding they can, while some are stuck at a green light and don’t know it.  Substitute Christ for your bike, and see where you are in him.  Where is Jesus in your life? 

A popular poster reminds us “I rather be riding my motorcycle thinking about God than in church thinking about riding.”  Sounds like a lot of us if we are honest enough to admit it.  A life in Christ should never be a weekend experience.  Jesus is not just for going to church and enduring an hour.  He should be part of your life everyday.  He should fill the most important part of your life, he should dwell in your heart.  Yet some treat him like the way they ride, and when the bike won’t start, gets dirty, or needs maintenance, park it outside and go on to to something else.  Jesus is their Lord when all goes well, but when something else is available, they flee like rats when the lights come on.  They really have no relationship, they just fill a pew, creating a pew no one wants to smell.  They may even had said a prayer, joined a church, tithed regularly, or served on a committee.  But they do not know Jesus personally.  He fills a void in time, not in their life.  They have become religious, and live by a set of rules.  Within the group they are admired, but are miserable inside.  They have a motorcycle, they just don’t ride it, and if they do, never go anywhere.  They never get any bugs in their teeth because they never smile.  Only on cue when expected. 

The law kills, the spirit gives life.  And freedom in the spirit.  Some talk of chicken strips, not at McDonalds, but the unused space on the edge of your tire.  None of my bikes have chicken strips, the tires are worn to the edge.  I like the curves,and getting everything I can from my bikes.  Some bikes maximum lean is on the sidestand, and kick stands up is a challenge.  I learned long ago in corners to keep leaning, and in life to keep leaning too, on Jesus.  I may be selfish, but I want all I can get form him, I want to be blessed, and to be a blessing.  To see others saved, and growing in him.  To walk in the spirit, not become a victim of religion.  The choice is up to us.  The way may be straight and narrow, but the roads in life aren’t.  And we need to learn to lean on him, to trust the spirit, and enjoy the freedom we are promised.  So he took all the Mosaic rules, over 600, and brought it down to one, love God first with all your heart, then your neighbor.  Be forgiven, then forgive others.  Including yourself.  Maybe the hardest thing to do.  But in Christ, you will.  Only in Christ can you do all things, with his spirit.

Motorcycles are not for everyone.  Jesus is.  I used to ride with many others, but found restricted by their rules to ride by.  So I ride alone, but not by myself.  Jesus is always with me, no matter the ride.  Or road.  I know many who have taken an MSF course, and are good riders.  They have the mechanics down of how to ride, now they need to build the relationship with the road.  The more you ride, the more miles, the more experience.  The narrower the chicken strips, and soon only those who look for them are the ones who haven’t experienced all the ride can give.  You all know them, by their stripes you know how they ride.  With Jesus, it is by his stripes we are healed.  And the freedom begins.

If you don’t ride it is not my fault.  It is your fault, so try the asphalt.  Same with Jesus.  Not my fault, or other Christians.  It is your fault, based on a choice you make.  Get out and enjoy the asphalt of riding in the spirit, and see where he takes you.  Lean on Jesus, not only in the curves but in the straights also.  Get the most for your ride and life but only in him.  Let him stir your soul the way riding does, and look forward to every day with him.  Don’t leave home without him, no matter what you ride.  Finally, a short story that happened after church...

A man approached me and also had a Triumph and wanted to ride with me.  Excited we talked, then his wife walked up.  She hated motorcycles, when I asked if she rode.  “I’m in the medical field,” and she went on about the danger of riding, and so my response surprised her.  “So am I” I said, “I’m a patient.  And I am really glad to meet someone else in the medical field.  Maybe you can answer me a question, is it OK for me to go to sleep tonight?  I have 4 friends this year who have died in their sleep?”  Her answer may surprise you, it didn’t me.  She stormed off.....You see I don’t wish to live my life in fear, but in the spirit.  I want all from life I can get.  And if I have to sit somewhere, why not sit behind bars, handlebars?  She had rules, and boundaries.  I have the spirit, and freedom.  My wife and I rode home, I don’t want to think of the ride home with the other man’s wife.  You know I did see a broom parked outside....you think?

Your fault or the asphalt.  Freedom in the spirit, or bound by rules.  Your choice.  I can be best described as a Christian motorcyclist.  Jesus and motorcycles, it just don’t get any better.  Except Jesus, Theresa, and motorcycles.  She rides her own bike by the way....even to church.  The asphalt....not my fault.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

"it OK, he not home"

When the Little Rascals were building a go cart for themselves, Buckwheat offered a steering wheel.  When asked if it was OK with his Dad, he replied “it OK, he not home.”  An answer that many of us used when we were growing up and doing things we knew may be wrong, but did anyway.  And the Little Rascals were a great influence on us, as these Depression era kids showed ingenuity, respect, courtesy, and thinking outside of the box in their creativity.  In their playing.  And so we did too, but sometimes trouble followed, even if our intentions were good to start out with.  Like when we painted Chucky Adams’ father’s car, we were only 5, we didn’t know it was wrong.  Another time we helped clean up the neighborhood by becoming garbage men, emptying trash cans into our wagons and then dumping it on Bruce’s patio.  It wasn’t OK, and he wasn’t home.  Another time we sold the wreck of Barry’s father’s car for $5, it had been in accident and towed to his yard, we were just helping.  But some also were just mischievious, as when we sat on one kid’s roof and sprayed cars with a hose while they passed by.  I guess some people just don’t have a sense of humor.  Mix in between all the times we gathered up pop bottles, trying to get money for the latest club we formed, and lost interest leaving someone’s garage full of dirty bottles.  Fifty cents went a long way when we were kids.  But in all cases we were just kids, trying to have fun, and living out our lives via the Little Rascals.  And in every case, we echoed Buckwheat about our fathers, “It OK, he not home.”

And as we got older we turned our enterprising efforts to building forts, and washing cars, shoveling snow, and cutting yards to get money.  So all of our endeavors were not in vain, and without honor.  Or was that dishonor?  Our minds were always busy thinking of things to do in this pre-video game world, maybe the world could use a strong dose of the Little Rascals today to teach us creativity, respect, and the importance of friends.  Where is Buckwheat when we need him?

But one well intentioned episode brought in the police.  Back 50 years ago we respected the police and kids bigger than us.  Jail or getting punched was a great crime deterrent.  In every neighborhood there is one neighbor who is different, in ours it was Frank.  He lived next to Bruce and Barry, was always on our case, had no sense of humor and was bald.  Which back when hair was a normal male occurrence made him stand out.  “Frank is bald” was our joke for everything, even calling him “ye old Mexican hairless.”  But never to his face.  Everyone knew who he was and we laughed a lot at him, he was always on our case.  Skateboarding had just hit Scotch Plains, only 3000 miles from California, and we all made our own boards, buying a pair of roller skates, and then finding some old wood at a job site and building two, one for me and one for you.  Being creative and funny at age 10, we would right funny things on them, and “Frank is bald,” was on each kid’s board.  And all was well until one afternoon riding down the sidewalk on Hetfield Avenue, and not looking as we crossed the street.  A police car turned at the same time, and I collided.  Ending up on the hood.  No one was hurt, but the skateboards were confiscated, our names taken down, a fate worse than death where we lived, and told our fathers would have to the police station with us to get them back.  And no denying what had happened at the dinner table that night, so we all fessed up, and Sunday morning after Sunday school my father took me by the police station. 

A fate worse than death to us kids, as we knew we were in trouble, now our fathers would also get a lecture from the police.  And the last thing we ever wanted to do was let our fathers down.  Timid and scared, the spankings both verbal and physical had already been applied, we went in and addressed the sergeant.  And my heart sank low as I recognized the sergeant, it was Frank’s father.  And “Frank is bald” was written in huge letters on my board.  All the lessons about punishment for sin in Sunday school that morning came to my mind, I figured I was going to jail, maybe my father too.  And my father recognized the name too...and we both looked at the floor.  But when the sergeant gave me the board back, and a small lecture, my Dad just nodded yes, I mumbled “yes sir,” and we left as quick as possible, not looking back.  And holding in laughter, as both of us got the giggles about “Frank is bald” written on the skateboard.  We laughed all the way home, we had caught the policeman in a situation where he knew about the writing but couldn’t admit it or do anything about it.  My skateboarding skills may have been questionable, but the writing on the board was true.  And my skateboarding days were over, back to my bike, the only Sting Ray I would ever own.  An experience that would lay groundwork for my being a father years later.  I never skateboarded again, but Frank would always be bald.

We loved our fathers when we were growing up.  They were more than parents, they coached, played ball with us, fixed our bikes, took us for ice cream, and were always there when we needed them.  If not always present we always knew of their presence in our lives.  But unlike Buckwheat’s answer, many times we didn’t do things, even if he wasn’t home.  We didn’t want to endure another spanking, another afternoon spent in our room, or another day without our bikes.  We respected our fathers, and many times we behaved because we didn’t want to bring them dishonor. No kid growing up wanted to embarrass his Dad, especially in front of the police.  Or worse yet, another dad.  Or being hit by them in front of other kids.  So we behaved, we had rules we obeyed, we had honor.  We still had fun, and yes, many things I cannot write, but sometimes somehow they knew, and the price of finding out was enough punishment.  Silence a fate worse than death.  Or not being able to watch Chiller Theater.  We had consciences that guided us, and if our parents didn’t catch us, they would.

I find it hard many times to think of Jesus as a kid.  We get a lot of insight into his birth, and of his ministry, but only one story is related about his growing up years.  The story of when his parents couldn’t find him, as he had wondered away.  And when they did find him in the church, his reply was surprising to me.  His words and attitude were expressed, “where else did you think I would be?”  For where else would the son of God want to be than with his father?  In church.  But also nothing is said about his brothers and him, although we know James later in life came to recognize him as Lord.  But the teen years of Jesus growing up are never mentioned, so we can only imagine.  His mother had him as a teen, Joseph was a woodworker, so he may have followed in his footsteps for hobbies, woodworking.  It is mentioned he was a carpenter, a finishing carpenter, and tradition has him making yokes.  A specialized skill, so he knew something about why we should take his yoke.  So rather than thinking Jesus was some super teen who never sinned, he was probably more like you and me, except for the sin part.  He played with kids, listened to stories, probably had a pet or two, played games with kids in the neighborhood, and had all the teen pressures of the day.  Yet he was sinless, always doing what his father asked him to do.  “Thy will be done,” he told his disciples, and he set the example.  He never could or would have answered like Buckwheat, for his father in heaven was always home, and constantly in communication with him.  And still is today.  A sobering thought we must remember.

Many times we were punished by our earthly fathers who loved us, only God forgives.  And only in Jesus.  It must have been tough for the kids in his neighborhood after they grew up to find out who he was, and ask him for forgiveness.  “Jesus is the savior, I used to play kickball with him, he wasn’t very good.”  And it can be just as hard today.  But Jesus makes it easy, come as you are.  No condemnation in Christ, just repent.  And we can only repent when we know what we did is wrong.  Like writing “Frank is bald” on our skateboards.  Somehow our sin found us out, and it wasn’t an isolated sin, it effected our fathers too.  But we learned from it, sometimes only until the next time, and unlike God who forgives all, our names were still in the policeman’s book.  We were on record here on earth, only Jesus can change that, writing our names in the Book of Life.  Meaning forgiveness, and being reunited with our father in heaven.  And finally someday being at home with him.  And the offer is available to all....

Some suffer in jail for their earthly crimes, but will be free someday in heaven.  Some carry about their sin as a burden, when they can give it to Jesus.  Take his yoke, his spiritual yoke today, and be relieved from the burden of sin.  Be free in Christ, no matter where you are.  Eternity is a long time, a life sentence with God, and when we die we go to him if we are saved.  I like what Pastor Chuck used to say, “I will never die, just change addresses.”  And so we will when we go to heaven.  Or to hell, for some will resist the offer.  And turn from a loving heavenly father who wants them to be in heaven with him.  But it is our choice......

Sin is not OK with God, but forgiveness is.  Experience it today, maybe for the first time.  Know Jesus personally by name, and know what lies ahead after death.  In him we never die, without him we are dead already.  And it is OK to be a kid in Christ, we are all to come to him as a little child.  Who needs his father, and a big brother to protect them.  Jesus saves skateboarders, bikers, hookers, sinners, and even policemen too.  All have sinned and fallen short of God’s glory, be saved today.  All trips to the police don’t end like my skateboard incident did, and all things done in fun aren’t funny.  I look forward to the day when if asked “is it OK with your Dad?” I can say it is well with my soul.  On earth as it is in heaven.  Jesus was a kid once too so he knows.  Now if only a neighbor would get a new refrigerator so we can play spaceship in the box.....

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

how far would you ride to surprise a friend?

My touring philosophy is very simple.  If you cannot put gas in it,I don’t want to ride it, and if I cannot ride there, I am not interested in going.  Planes and trains may take you there, but even a vacation on them is still a long commute.  Jammed in with kids, businessmen, families, and others who cannot wait to get to their destination.  While I ride content in the fact that my ride is a destination, one of many along the way.  And so faced with a new motorcycle, due some vacation time, and Labor Day approaching, I put my philosophy into practice.  I had just bought a new 1984 FJ1100, a left over at a vastly reduced price, and wanted to put miles on it.  The first few days were local, then my 600 mile service, then the mental and physical break in began.  I needed to stretch my legs, cross a few time zones and see  just what this sport tourer would do, so I decided to visit my grandparents in Pennsylvania, a short 2300 miles from my home in northwest New Mexico.  With 10 days to ride and visit, it was 3 days to get there, 3 to visit, 3 to come back, always the hardest part of any ride.  One to rest.  All when the national speed limit was 55mph-on a bike geared for 155!  So with my small duffle bag bungeed on, I set off.  Heat, rain, my first 100 miles in one hour stretch in eastern Colorado, and soon I was there.  I had called my grandmother telling her, but we decided not to tell my grandpa so he wouldn’t worry.  And he just happened to be sitting on his front porch steps when I arrived, he knew it was me even before I turned around to park, jumping up and running to me.  Not bad for a man who had trouble walking.  He was so glad to see me, and excited I had ridden.  He is the man in my family I get my travel bug from, when he was 21 in 1926, he and a friend hitch hiked across country,  before Route 66, before paved roads west of the Mississippi, and when motels were still a generation away.  Sleeping in jails, getting rides standing on running boards, and working for meals from farms and families, I come by it honestly.  So it should be no surprise he was glad to see me, startled but not surprised.  And for 3 days we all had a great time.

This was a secret we never shared with anyone else, not even family within 3 miles or family 60 miles away.  It was a special time for us, a time of talking, catching up, dressing for dinner, dining at the Colonial Hotel, and being spoiled for a quick 3 days.  It was one of a very few of my rides where the destination was more important than the ride, but don’t discount the ride either.  It may have been freeway, but going through Virginia and Pennsylvania, which has the third largest amount of new motorcycle dealers for a reason, made for great riding.  But soon, too soon, it was time to head west, and I almost did it in 2 days, except for weather, lots of rain, one stretch from Oklahoma City to Farmington-over 800 miles, in one day.  But like my destination in Pennsylvania, I had a family in New Mexico I missed too, and 9 days away from them was too much.  The miles seem to go faster when returning home, but these seemed to go on forever.  Some would question my sanity, some my devotion to family.  Some my riding a new bike so far so quickly.  Some not flying, some actually going at all.  But to me it all seemed the right thing to do.  A question answered that I hadn’t asked myself prior to leaving, but knew after returning.  How far would you ride to surprise a friend?  Some answer in days, or miles...mine is simpler, whatever it takes.  Sometimes all it takes is a fast bike and a destination, this time grandparents and a few days. Some do break in miles carefully, I do mine by states.  And my two week old bike arrived home safely with just over 6600 miles on it.  With me on it.  Broke in, not broken.

The New King James Version mentions the word friend(s) 109 times.  In Exodus we find God talking to Moses as a friend, in 2 Chronicles God is asked if he was still a friend of Abraham?  Proverbs tells us a friend loves at all times, yet warns later about wealth making many friends and separating the poor.  And reminds us there is one who sticks with us closer than a friend.  Jesus was known as a friend of the poor, lonely, of prostitutes and alcoholics.  He called Lazarus friend that he may go to see him he told others.  Later the Jews would taunt Pilate about him that if you let him go you are not a friend of Caesar’s.  And Paul writes that Abraham was found righteous and called a friend of God.  And James writes that whoever is a friend of the world, is an enemy of God.  God is love, he sent Jesus in love because he loved us.  His spirit is present today to show us love,and to bring us closer to himself, guiding us to Jesus, who made the way back to our father-God in heaven.  How far would you go to surprise a friend?  Yet many refuse to admit or acknowledge just how far Jesus went for us, to the cross and death.  He took the ultimate trip, to the ultimate destination, and calls us friends.  Could we just labor, suffer, ride one more mile, one more day in his name to show others his love and friendship? 

The gospel is good news, both for the sinner and the saint.  It is comfort in the storm, warmth on a cold ride, and a fulfilling meal when hungry.  All shared with God, who came to us in the form of a man and became our friend.  Jesus calls us friend, is he your friend?  What is you response when he asks “why do you call me Lord but don’t do the things I ask?”  Are you close enough to be friends?  Are you even friendly?

Again Proverbs advises a man who has friends must be friendly, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.  Some call him master, Lord, rabbi, or God.  But we know him by his first name, just like we do our friends, we call him Jesus.  The friend that sticks closer than a brother.  Job endured a hardship not mentioned much when his friends turned on him, and he had to discipline and counsel them.  He had love for them, all they saw was his misery and how he must have sinned.  Fortunately we have Jesus as a friend, who sees our misery, and when forgiven no longer sees our sin.  He tells us we are his friends if we follow his commands.  Go in his love, his commandment.  Maybe if we live our lives in Christ like John wrote in 3 John, how he longs to see us face to face soon, and that we should greet our friends by name, and what better name to be greeted by than Jesus.  Who waits for us patiently....

And he understands 3 days on the road, for he arose in 3 days.  His destination heaven, after taking care of his friends.  My grandparents were my close friends,who loved me despite my faults.  They forgave me and loved me as I was.  I will never forget the joy in my Grandpa when he jumped seeing me, and how his love for me overflowed those three days.  A special time well worth the trip.  The rain, the police, the cold.  So I ask, how far would you ride to surprise a friend?  Your answer may surprise you, it doesn’t Jesus.  He loves you anyway.  As a friend.  He no longer calls us servants, for a servant doesn’t know the heart of the master.  But now he calls us friends, for all the things his father has made known to him he makes known to us.  He survived the cross, rising again after three days, he knew where he was going and why.  I rode three days on a trip the same way in love.  And while my return trip was bittersweet, his final return to earth will be joyous.  I had family who loved me and I loved at both ends.  Be part of God’s family and find true love.  Here and now, there and later.  Life is a break in for life in heaven, ride it with your friend Jesus.  6000 miles in two weeks may be a quick break in for some, it helps when you know your destination.  Job’s three friends did little to comfort him, only one can truly comfort.  Let the spirit of the living God comfort you today no matter where or how far you ride.  He knows the way, for Jesus is the way.  I got my travel bug from my Grandpa, and my ticket to heaven from Jesus.  And find out how really far a true friend will go to surprise you. For even while we were yet sinners, he died for us.  How far would your ride to surprise an enemy?  Only in Jesus will you ever know....don’t wait for a new bike to take the trip.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

the wheel(s) of fortune, or one day to remember in September

September is always our hottest month, and with a hurricane off the coast here, add humidity to the heat and it feels like back east.  But we must ride on, and so I did yesterday. My goal was to sit in the audience of Wheel of Fortune up in the SONY Studios, on the old MGM and Columbia lot in Culver City.  Never sure of traffic I set off early for the 315pm taping, and stopped in to see Mickey first.  I was on my Tiger 955, and when asking what was new was offered a hot rodded Rocket 3.  Not turbo charged, but hot rodded.  At first they were disappointed it only made 189 hp on the dyno, but when the air box was removed it made 219 hp! Equivalent to almost 1000 hp in a car!  Loud and fast, how could I say no?  Did I mention it was fast?  Why was the traffic going so slow I wondered, until I saw I was going over 105 in third....and backed off.  This sucker is fast.  And off to BA Moto I went to see 50 State Nate, who had just gotten back from 111 days on the road, 50 states and over 21,000 miles.

His ride was for Allstate on a 2015 Indian, provided by them, to meet at each state capital and get awareness for motorcycle safety.  He was living our dream.  But sadly during his ride his dad passed away, casting a bittersweet shadow over it.  Having lunch with him and Jamie, seeing Mike, all old but younger riding friends was special.  I missed them, note to self, visit them more.  Our roots go deep in motorcycling, but deeper in friendship.  And then off from Signal Hill to Wheel of Fortune.  Arriving a bit early, I wasn’t sure of the procedure, I was amazed at how organized, yet laid back it was.  And the friendliness of everyone.  And meeting in the parking garage, right across from where the motorcycles were parked, including the Rocket, I began to talk to two of the young men in charge of our group.  They taped 5 shows that day, we were numbers 4 and 5.  But they were both into bikes, one guy from Switzerland had a ZX9 over there, and so we talked.  And I got some neat background about the show, and special info that the non-riders didn’t get.  And was able to share the Lord in attitude and action, using words when needed.  But onto the show....

The set was smaller than I expected, busy yet friendly.  About 45 of us in the audience and we were told the rules-#1 was to have fun.  I like that.  And to clap a lot.  Between the applause signs and flashing lights reminding us, we were told to watch Vanna, when she claps you clap.  Which got your mind off the game and onto clapping a lot...and soon I was clapping without prompting.  I sat by the announcer, who was friendly, we talked old TV shows like the Addams Family between spins, see all my time spent on Me TV wasn’t wasted.  Pat and Vanna were friendly, and I got the idea they were like that off camera, which they were.  Lots of joking, smiles and hugs...you felt very like a part of it.  And when Vanna came out and answered questions, she explained how they didn’t really need her, they controlled the new style monitors from the back.  Pat standing aside, spoke out, “we have the hardware, Vanna is the software....”  what I would have expected.  But the taping was done, took over an hour and 15 minutes, and they got ready for  the next one.  I left, I had seen enough, and passed on the $10 Sears gift card and t shirt if I stayed for the second.  No cameras allowed inside, and you’ll have to wait until December 4 and 5 to see what I saw.  The set decorated for Christmas, while it was only 102 outside.  By the way, the son and mother from St. Louis won over $55,000.  More clapping!  Great time, great people, new friends made, and I think I will go back again.  Did I mention the tickets were free?

And back to Escondido I rode, traffic not too bad for leaving the SONY lot at 509, and I stopped to water a lemon tree and water myself at a rest stop on I-5 north of Oceanside.  The one my friend David used to run the cleaning crew at.  All was well until the Rocket wouldn’t start.  The high compression with the heat took more battery than the factory had to offer.  So I called my roadside provider, and the evening began.  Borrowing a cell from a trucker who spoke no English, they said they would respond in an hour.  While waiting I called Theresa from another cell, from a guy who worked there and knew David.  We hit it off, and when they didn’t arrive in 60 minutes as promised, called them back.  Being told a 10 minute ETA, we waited, bench racing in the dark by now.  After another 50 minutes, and no emergency vehicle, I called again, and was told a 20 minute ETA.  They were only 7 miles from me.  Someone was lying.  By now over 2 hours and 15 minutes had passed, it was hot, muggy, fog rolled in and still no jump.  The 20 minute ETA had passed, big surprise, when we saw an AAA truck pull in, and flagged him down.  He was on a call, had never jumped a cycle before, I had, and he let me use the box.  Less than a minute later I was off...still no sign of the roadside service I had called.  Losers.  And finally home for dinner at 1015.  Exhausted, tired, worn out and somehow still excited about the wheels of fortune of the day.

I had started out to see Wheel of Fortune, but the wheels of fortune, God’s divine providence got me a ride on a bike no one else other than the trade mags will ever ride, I met with some good friends, and met with a man who stayed by me the whole time at the rest stop.  Who knew David, and now we are friends.  God’s plans are not like ours, they are better although sometimes we don’t get it at first.  I made a few new friends today, and hope to hear from Patrick at Wheel and ride together.  He is also a pilot, maybe we can meet at Flo’s at the Chino Airport.  Funny I never was in a hurry, and didn’t get impatient, add frustrated for the tow service that never arrived.  And it all turned out good in the end for me.  Been there, done that...maybe I should have stayed for the shirt!

But today is September 11, 9-11.  A day in American history where the wheels of fortune were turned against us.  From the outside many wonder “where was God?” but after being a part of ceremonies for almost 10 years, I can tell you he was there.  Especially Flight 93 in Shanksville, where 40 patriots took down the flight and we will never know what they did prevented.  40 strangers who united in the Holy Spirit and proved scripture that greater love has no man than to lay down his life for another.  I wish I could be at the Chapel in Shanksville today, and of course I miss Fr. Al.  Who is in heaven.  I miss all the bikers who come out each year, and sadly with no services in So Cal, I now am part of the crowd that seems to have forgotten.  Called Patriot’s Day now, it seems forgotten.  But God hasn’t forgotten, and he hasn’t forgotten us.  Yesterday in my prayers he told me to have a good time, and it was a blessed time.  He included some events not planned nor asked for, and made it special his way.  Special because a loving God loves me so much he sent his son Jesus to die for me.  For freedom, to ride, to worship, to visit, and to do it in a free country.  But how much longer depends on him.  Find the freedom in Christ today.  Don’t depend on the wheels of fortune like some do, get an up front seat with God and be involved.  I sat in the audience yesterday while many came together to make a show, today I sit in awe of God again, who somehow makes it all work together for those who love him.  Even me.  On a loud hot rodded motorcycle!   Yesterday was a day I will remember for a long time.   Special days with God are like that, and we never know when we wake up what he has in store.  Our patriotic friends on Flight 93 may be forgotten by most, but to God they are remembered.  And to me also.  Take time to honor them today by thanking God, by honoring Jesus by showing his love.  Only his love can cover a multitude of sins.  And we all have so much to be forgiven.  Which gives us more to thank him for.  A day I won’t forget, mostly because God never forgets me. 

I will look at Wheel of Fortune a different way after being there.  If Jesus hasn’t changed your wheels of fortune, invite him into it now.  We never know when we will breath our last, I am glad I know where I will be after I do.  Maybe it is like Pat said.  We have the hardware, I’ll add Jesus is the software.  Wheel of Fortune, or fortunes on wheels, it is always all about Jesus.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com