that disease called motorcycling

I met Sam at a Cycle World motorcycle show years ago.  He was standing by himself, studying the new Honda chopper style bike.  It was when the Metric guys were trying to catch on and each one had a Harley style cruiser, Honda going the next step, as only Honda used to be able to do.  He was wearing his Hessian colors, and nodded at me when I stopped to look.  “You know, if you had one of those you could be a real biker too,” I replied, and he laughed.  He had seen more miles than most groups of new Harley riders, his limp when walking away a dead give away, but as we talked about motorcycles and how they had changed, we both came to the same conclusion, we had the same disease, and it was called motorcycles.  He loved his Harley, was interested in Triumph as he had ridden them before, but never caught onto the “you meet the nicest people on a Honda,” line, but still had friends who rode them.  We both kept studying the Honda while we talked, and when he had seen enough, shook my hand, said it was good talking with me, wished me a good day and to ride safe.  As I watched him limp away, I knew we both suffered from the same disease, terminal but not life threatening, and even though motorcycles had changed, and are still changing, motorcycling had changed us too.  In ways we never imagined...

My friend Glen was a newcomer to motorcycles, the poster boy for the new lifestyle riders.  He thought there were only two brands of motorcycles, Harley and Davidson, and made fun of my sport bikes, as if we didn’t have the talent to drive an old tractor.  One day in the garage, he asked if he could ride my Sprint RS, wanted to see if it was as powerful as his Harley.  So we went up the freeway, me chasing him on his Harley, when we saw a bike stopped on the shoulder.  Pulling up, the guy wearing Vago colors waved Glen on, but when I pulled up, he talked with me, told me he was waiting for a truck to come fetch him, and thanked me for stopping.  If only he knew how I made fun of Harleys, and the guy he waved on was riding my bike and I was riding his.  I think Sam would have laughed at that one. 

Stopping by the local Harley store that now sells Indians, I noticed Spud was gone.  Funny how every time I pulled up on a Triumph, all the old guys would come over and tell of the one they used to have, and Spud was one of them.  Really one of us, as even if I had a Daytona, or Speed Triple, he was interested.  He would ask questions, as he had read about them, and would tell me if younger, would like to ride one.  But he was always glad to see me and talk motorcycles, again that common disease called motorcycling.  The new GM there told me any bike I want to test ride just let him know.  He knows my Triumphs and likes the new Bonnevilles.  Even though he sells Harleys and Indians. But took me back in the shop, past the no customers allowed sign to show me his Yamaha FZ09, and a BMW 1600 tourer he just bought.   Telling me intimate details about riding both of them.  He rides...and sells.  A terminal case if I ever saw one....

After being told by a major motorcycle ministry I wasn’t wanted any more, I had chosen God over their rules and regulations, almost cultic, I found I could do more ministering when not advertising myself as a Christian and acting like one.   Just like the guy who wears his Jesus shirt and cannot figure out why he always sits alone on the bus, I have this terminal case of Christianity based on Jesus Christ.  But I choose not to advertise, but to live my ride with him.  The root word for religion means binding, and whether worshipping God or motorcycles, if you live by the rules imposed, you lose you freedom.  Jesus understood this, the Pharisees never did, and although they bragged on themselves, I wonder how lonely they really were.  How unhappy, insecure, and miserable they were, having to constantly obey all the laws, for if they broke one they had broken them all, and who knew who was watching and was there to remind them.  So I feel sorry for them, but keep in mind it was their choice.  No one forced them, and in the law they were terminally ill spiritually.  No wonder they hated Jesus, he represented freedom, something not in their vocabulary,  They were so close to him, yet so far away. 

Which is why I tend to avoid many Christians, who want to save me.  My long hair and beard, my motorcycle and lifestyle may not portray their religion, but my freedom in Christ portrays who he is.  I can go and ride anywhere and any brand I want.  I can sit with Pentecostals, Catholics, Jews, and even fundamental Christians, and be free.  But within the context of their religion, my freedom scares them.  For what if they were truly free in Christ, and had to make a decision based on Jesus as opposed to denominational boundaries?  What if they became unpopular, a lot of what ifs.  But true freedom is found in the spirit, and in the spirit, these prideful worries don’t exist.  I have placed my confidence is Christ Jesus, and found his crowd of one to be superior.  Jesus never followed the crowd, if you notice the crowd followed him.  Jesus was never brand specific, all sinners were welcome.  No matter the offense.

Today may be the day you break free from religion and find victory in Jesus.  Where you find the truth truly sets you free, and you can have a  more abundant life in him.  Where you are, whoever you are, he offers his forgiveness from sin, and welcomes you as family.  Calls you friend, and loves you as you are, but doesn’t want to leave you that way.  Abundant life is one prayer away....

Or you could be like the loud pipes save lives biker who pulled up next to me.  I was less than a mile from the shop on a Rocket 3, with a Carpenter head, dynoing at 220 hp, and 189 lb. ft of torque.  He revved his engine wanting to show his superiority, so I did answered back.  With the sound of a NASCAR motor coming from the Rocket.  He just stared ahead, avoiding any eye contact, and putt putted away when the light turned green.  You see if you cannot be fast, you can always be loud.  But you cannot always be free.  I’m sure his version is different....so choose freedom today.  From motorcycles to food to where and how you worship him, Jesus lets you decide.  You make the choice, does your church or denomination offer you that?  Does your dealer?  Just think, if you had Jesus Christ in your life, you could be a real Christian too......

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

summer jobs and the music that drove us

Being a 16 year old in Jersey was the toughest year of my life to date.  In their wisdom they made the state law to drive 17, so while most of America was driving to the malt shop or cruising, two things Scotch Plains teens never did, we were still getting driven around by our parents.  It was the age to date, but who could compete against even the geekiest senior with a car, even if it was his mother’s?  Girls your age were already too old for you by rite of license, or not having one, and younger girls were just that, young.  But we knew that some day our chance would come, and 17 would be the magic age when all our teen dreams were realized, but for now......it was all hands and glands, with Clearasil your best friend.

But at age 16, when most were getting their licenses, it was the summer of our first job, real job.  For me it was working for the Union County Park Commission digging iris beds for $1.60/hour, big money in 1969 dollars.  But it was also the first summer I was exposed to real life outside of my white bread life, where meeting other kids from other schools and towns would influence me.  Due to sports I had met many others, but only and always on the field or court.  But this summer working together, my whole world expanded.  I worked with black kids from Plainfield, where only two summers ago they had riots.  I met my first Indian friend, who was steeped in tradition, my first hippie friend, and two guys who were even more ignorant and narrow minded than me.  Seems we expect a lot from a 16 year old that you cannot learn in school, it must be experienced.  And that summer was a great learning, both social and educational experience.

Music in 1969 was great, from The Carpenters to Rare Earth, to Led Zeppelin to In-a Gadda-da-Vita, FM was new, WABC was all about Cousin Brucie, and this white bread kid was about to learn what Motown was all about.  I always loved The Temptations, The Four Tops, and The Supremes, but this summer the big argument was not about race, although it would play a part, not about girls, although they would play a part, and not about cars, they wouldn’t play a part.  It was all abut who was better, Rare Earth or The Carpenters, and the arguments were both heated and valid, if not prejudicial.  The city guys form Plainfield were all about Rare Earth, you could dance to it, hence the girl connection, vs. The Carpenters you couldn’t, but you could snuggle and kiss to.  Make out in the terms of the day.  They couldn’t understand the make out part, I was no dancer, so skipped a step, no pun intended.  It took us into many racial areas, and social issues none of us how confronted before, and even though the discussions were heated at times, we all ended the day as friends, and then picked up the argument the next day.  We may have disagreed on music, but we had grown together by working together, and finding our we really weren’t that much different.  We all looked forward to driving, to college or the dream of it, we all wanted a steady girl, some just wanted to dance, while the rest of us necked.  At the end of the summer we each went our separate ways, it was only choice encounters, or the next summer job when we met that we found out what good friends we were, even if you couldn’t dance to The Carpenters.....And next summer we would be old enough to drive and our world would change again.

Where we grew up and how was a great influence in our early lives, and would change and evolve as we got older.  No one knew where Scotch Plains was, but our reputation proceeded us, as did Plainfield’s, but we all knew where it was.  Yet when we meet, we invariably ask “where are you from?”  Me,when someone thinks they know me, I ask “what do you ride or where do you go to church?”  Making judgment calls based on their answers.  Innocent enough, but down deep we really are judging or evaluating the other, while they do us.  And in doing so we have become Christian snobs.  Oh you only go to Pastor’s church, or oh you are Catholic, Jewish, or Calvary Chapel.  Without knowing, or at least I hope not knowing, we are becoming like the Pharisees, very religious and unloving.  Dictated by what we have learned in church, or following denominational guidelines.  We think that the way we worship is better, our teachings are superior, but in over 58 summers since being 16, I have not seen the passion or love since discussing music that summer.  Seems somewhere in our personal religion, Jesus is left out.  We quote his words, yet we don’t love like them.  We meet his family of believers, and want to fit in, yet find we cannot dance many times to their tune.  It’s Rare Earth vs. The Carpenters all over again, where few ever get it that Jesus was a carpenter, and the rare earth he speaks of is revealed via the holy spirit.  We forget that love is supposed to be our unique feature, and that when spirit driven, the world will see and want what we have.  Some are all hands and glands when it comes to study, some are on the dance floor, while others sit silently waiting for an invite.  Just there are many moods to music, Jesus is so deep and diverse we only get a true glimpse of him, we become safe Christians, staying within church boundaries, feeling safe and protected, forgetting scripture tells us an empty barn stays clean and makes no profit.  At 16 we were able to discuss, if not argue our differences, and still come away friends, why can’t we as a church do the same?

In New Ulm, Minnesota, a town of 16,000, they have six different Lutheran churches.  Do I make my point?  Do we not all share the same Jesus, or have we fractured him so badly we only see what we want to see?  We are all different, but it is Jesus that should make the difference.  I thought growing up and waiting to get a license at 17 was hard, now it looks easy compared to unity in the spirit.  I knew when I would be legal, are you waiting for an invitation to know Jesus?  To step out of religion and into life?  Is your life one style of music, just waiting and wanting to listen to another tune?  Do you only know what you are taught, or has your Christian experience gone deeper?  Are you the same person outside the church as you are in it?  What part of an abundant life in Jesus are you afraid of?

I learned the truth at 16, applying what I had been taught in school and having to apply it on the street.  Falling short many times, but growing as I went.  Jesus was an applications sort of guy, not a philosopher.  He dealt with human situations and advised on how to handle them.  Not try this to see if it works,  or maybe this might work, he was and isn’t theories about truth, he is the truth.  But all your knowledge is useless until it is put into action.  An old post card from a girl friend told me “quit wasting your time bragging about what a great lover you are, show me.”  Seems being 16 and saved are not much different, it will always be about performance.  I wished I could dance like Fred Allen did, or have the smooth words of my older friends, but I was stuck with me. The only me I could give to Jesus, and he changed me.  I still can’t dance, but now I appreciate it.  I still don’t have the moves, but at my age don’t need them.  But for 43 years my Jesus has put up with me, loved me,and taken me from religion and given me life.  I have come a long way from The Carpenters to knowing a Jewish carpenter as the true son of God.  If only I knew then what I do now....you don’t have to wait, you can have all the Jesus you need right now.  See, you can be “16 and beautiful, and be mine,” at any age.  Just keep the Clearasil handy...and did you know Rare Earth was the biggest white group on Motown. They only sounded black, do you only sound Christian?   And I still cannot dance.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

everyone owns a black car once

It was one of those days I had no intention of buying a new car, or even to look.  It was one of those days that we were almost out of groceries, and out of cash, that I saw our next car.  It was meeting the family for a Padre game that I almost didn’t make it to, that the new car came into our lives.  I had seen the ads for the new Ford Probe, and they looked cool, but when I saw an all black one, still on the transporter when doing a business call at the Ford store, that all common sense and financial history disappeared, almost like on cue.  It was like looking at a sporty Batmobile, and only seeing it from on the upper tier of the truck, I had to have it.  So going in and seeing my friend who sold there, I walked out an hour later, with a lease on a new 1989 Ford Probe, black.  Rushing him, making it to the game just before the first pitch.  The only car I would ever lease, and the only black car I will ever own.  I should have learned from black motorcycles how hard they are to keep shiny and clean, every weekend washing of the Probe reminded me.  But it was cool, looked cool, and many lessons learned from the transaction.  One never lease, you are renting and just throwing money away, at least in my case.  After the lease ran out, it had been maintained, miles kept down, and still looked new.  With an option to buy it, based on a prearranged value at the end of the lease.  I had been almost paranoid about turning it in and being dunned for damage or mileage, imagine my surprise when I called Ford and told them I wanted to buy it.  “Honey, we don’t care what shape it is in or if it comes in boxes.  If you want to buy it, the price is the price.”  Maybe all the hard work was worth it....or maybe it wasn’t.

I look at the shiny new black cars in the showroom, and how the new buyers are drawn to them.  Not like Harley black, of which my friend tells me there are only two colors for a Harley and both are black, but shiny and rich looking.  Until they sit out in the street because your garage is filled with so much junk your new car doesn’t fit or is welcome.  And soon it is isn’t shiny anymore, or even black looking, I vowed the Probe would never get like that.  And so it didn’t.....with no reward for upkeep to the buyer, but no penalty either.  With my car salesman friend telling me “the best used car is one you know the history of.  And you know the owner.”  But never again a black car, a lease, or buying a car while going to a Padre game.  I gave up on the Padres years ago...

That day and sadly too many others, my desire overcame my sense of reality.  Call it lust, as in I have to have it now, I deserve it now, and anyway, if God didn’t want me to have it, I couldn’t get financed.  Ever try that one on God?  We like to think we are self made, that as God as our banker, and negotiator we have the upper hand, and can get what we want.  But as Michael Jagger and the boys sang, “you just might find that sometimes you get what you need.”  Or in one case of a man called Herod, you don’t get either, just what you deserve.

Herod was a king who demanded he be worshipped as a god.  He kept the people of Galilee dependent on him for food, and when going out in his robes, they called to him “he must be a god, he has a voice like one.”  And so he believed it, he must a god, for no one else is like him.  Only to find out how pride only leads to the fall, and can happen at any time.  When the crowd acknowledged as a god, God stepped in and struck him down, and left him for the worms to eat.  God will not share his title with anyone, lest you boast.  There is only one Jesus, one holy spirit , and one way to salvation.  Promoting a man, worshipping a man, or even his values will lead to destruction.  On God’s timetable, not yours.  And always unexpectedly.  Like a thief in the night, our Probe was stolen, recovered, but after insurance paid off.  Life can happen that quick......

So beware the gods you worship.  Learn from Dagon, a false god who kept falling over and had to be put back on his perch, finally losing his arms and legs.  Sound like your god, maybe the black car you just had to have?  For after renting, and then buying, it was stolen.  It may be just a car, but God wants no other God between you and him.  He likes to bless us with things, but to praise him as he is the one from whom all blessings flow.  But God is patient that none should perish, and while rich and decadent men still thrive, and we wonder why, we need to know that Jesus loves them too.  That if he had come as a thief in the night as he promises before we were saved, we too would go the way of Herod.  That we are not to judge, but just love.  Not lust, but ask God, who gives generously.  Too may still are making the payments and still cannot afford to enjoy the purchase.  What looks good on the showroom or in ads, that which impresses others, usually ones we hate, will eventually lead us to destruction.  Mine was a black Probe, if only it looked as good in late life as it did that day I first saw it.

Fortunately Jesus is still making freaks into people, so we still have a chance.  But he is the chance, no other.  So let nothing come between you and him, no false gospel, no lust or gotta have it now desire, no rereading scripture to fit your sin, or allow it, and it’s time to get to know Jesus.  The Jesus of the Bible who loves us, who wants to bless us.  Who is patient that none should perish.  That Jesus.  The one that sends angels to protect us, but who also knows who are his, and who aren’t and never will be.  Don’t lease Jesus like you would a car, that’s religion.  His price is not negotiable, yet everyone can afford it.  Yet out of the ashes, we got more from the insurance company because I could prove the shape the car was in, and it was a string of Mustangs, convertibles to follow.  First a GT, but that’s another story...

So that is my only have one black car in my life story, and I am sticking to it.  Maybe the real reason I’ll never own a Harley.  You see, we drive red Mustangs now, and blue Triumphs.  Not too bad for a color blind guy.....if only religion were as black and white, it would make the choice so much easier.  Funny how Henry Ford is misquoted as saying you can have any color as long as it is black, which he never said.   Don’t misquote scripture, for as the children’s song says “red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his sight, Jesus loves the little children of the world.” 

And I still don’t cheer for the Padres....

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

bedside manner and those in between meals

Just got back from my cardiologist, who gave me the thumbs up, “whatever you are doing, keep doing it,” a far cry from six years ago when I needed a miracle and became a miracle.  My infectious disease doctor told me my labs were phenomanol, and still calls me Miracle Mike.  This is the kind of doctor visits I can handle.  But both have a quality of bedside manner that goes far beyond their trained skills, which both will admit is missing in many new doctors today.  The new breed may have the technical qualities, but lack the compassionate caring of a Doc Welby.  Like my cardiologist, Dr. G, loves to travel, not by bike, but is fascinated by my rides.  Even sharing places I would like to ride, and of course places to eat.  He is real about life, and health, inspiring me to take care of myself so I can ride more.  Bedside or roadside, he has my back.  A man after my own heart, no pun intended.

But joking yesterday about road food, he told me “if it tastes good, don’t eat it.”  I do have to watch my diet, as bad eating habits almost killed me once.  But he suggested for me a better way to eat, a better schedule if you will.  On the road it may be a small motel breakfast, avoiding the latex eggs and sausage cooked in Castrol.  Ride 100 miles, then a late breakfast or early lunch, a big meal.  Then a late dinner, because  am starved by then.  That was the old me.  He suggested many smaller meals during the day, skip the big ones, and avoid getting hungry and gorging.  It will help me lose weight and not tax my system so much.  Don’t wait until you are starving to eat, stop and munch as you go, just enough to sustain you.  Today will be my first test or application, and I am excited for it.  For food and riding are so much of my life. Eat to ride and ride to eat.....

But it made me reflect on how a relationship with God can develop bad habits.  Too many only wait until they are in trouble and starving for what God has to offer.  They don’t snack on Jesus during the week, and take in a big meal on Sunday, sleeping it off that afternoon.  Forgetting that even the 5000 that Jesus fed were hungry again the next day and would need food.  Jesus provides our daily bread via his spirit, and he tells us “as you go to make disciples.”  People do love God and show it other than at Sunday go to meeting.  Maybe we are neglecting the in between meals, the times of prayer and fellowship, of thinking of Jesus when riding or singing a song.  We get hungry for the gospel, and will gorge one day and starve the next.  Like binge eating, some are binge Christians, on a steady diet at church, but on a diet of low spirit during the week.  Their moods and witness suffering, along with their relationship with Jesus.  Sometimes the guilt is revealed in a long prayer before the meal, thanking God for everything while the food get cold, or silently chastising those who don’t eat up to their standards.  So Dr. G’s advice on changing my eating habits directly reflects my walk with Christ.  Seems I am hungry all the time for him, and waiting for meal time just don’t cut it.  So I nibble all day, and find he is more of my life than a once a week church service can provide.  Or nightly prayer, or blessing before a meal.  So maybe riding to eat when applied to being a Christian can improve both diets, spiritually and physically.  Sounds like my kind of food....

There are times when you just gotta have a Tootsie Roll, and times when you ride too far without stopping to have one.  Dulls the senses, and cuts into enjoying the ride.  And why do either if you don’t enjoy it?  So as a Christian, are you getting all the nourishment you need, so you can ride all the miles you desire?  Now I don’t condone living on Tootsie Rolls, mix in a Baby Ruth every once in awhile,  but eat healthy and often.  For it is not what goes into a man that is important, but what comes out.  I like to eat and love Jesus, now I can do both more often.  At my doctor’s orders.  Gotta love a man like that, to be encouraged to enjoy life, but do it healthy too.  And while you are enjoying your second or third plate, I will be full and refreshed and out riding.  With many stops along the way, and new face and places to see.  So don’t wait until starved to eat, and don’t wait until spiritually hungry to know Jesus.  Road food somehow always tastes better, and who better to show you than he who spent his life on the road.  While an ad tells us to “stay thirsty my friends,” I rather be full of the spirit.  You only starve after you miss something, I see my diet changing already.  On the road, or in the home, at the table or at the counter, never miss a meal again without Jesus.  Don’t bother leaving a tip on the table, this one was free....I’ll save a stool for you.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com