the wrong tool for the right job-but not Whitworth

I first learned about the mystery of round bolt heads from some vintage Triumph riders years ago.  Only the British could and would come up with a nut and bolt system where 5/16” wasn’t 5/16.  But that would be close enough to fit on a bolt head, but not close enough to grip it.  Wearing the head off, or rounded enough to spoil many a weekend ride.  But thanks to American ingenuity, we now have the Mexican speed wrench, or the Crescent wrench, available in both metric and standard, but not Whitworth, but can still handle the job.  But for the tougher jobs, and the explanation of why some bolt heads look like they hate bite marks, we also have vice grips, which will effectively dig into whatever is left of the bolt head, and destroy it before removing.  Again metric and standard, no Whitworth...

But growing up in the Japanese bike age, we got to forego stripped bolts, but were handed the dreaded Phillips screw.  Which made hammers and impact drivers a toolbox necessity, hopefully before the inner cross point was worn into a circle.  Which gave rise to many fine tuning hammers for the proper repair, and one home mechanic pointing out how the cheapo screw driver in their tool kit fit the heads perfectly.  It seems a Japanese Whitworth crosspoint was needed, a #2 standard just didn’t fit, nor did a #1 or #3.  So it wasn’t just the English who got their jollies over rounded fasteners that couldn’t be removed.  Which made me wonder, why hasn’t anyone come up with an adjustable blade screwdriver, with just a twist of the wrist it would fit all screws?  Metric and standard, but not Whitworth.  And the idea could carry over to socket heads/allen bolts, and even Torx.  Come on America, Snap On where are you when we need you?  Craftsman, you were smart enough to dump Sears, don’t stop now....

But it took my friend Brett graduating with a degree in architecture and going to work in the oil fields to see the importance of an education.  He taught us “don’t force it, just get a bigger hammer,” and many problems were solved while creating another.  Also “don’t force it, get a bigger lever,” with the accompanying “just get a bigger breaker bar,” all in different sizes, the wrong tool for the right job, without any Whitworth restrictions.  Seems necessity is still the father of invention, not to be confused with Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention.

The right tool will always make the job easier, and provide a quicker fix without the benefit of all the cuss words associated with the damage done by the improper tool.  While some are still fixing the damage done during the repair, you could be riding.  It seems when mankind was faced with a problem, the problem of sin, God addressed it perfectly via his son Jesus Christ.  The gospel, maybe translated as simply as this.  If we had a medical problem, he would have sent a doctor.  A philosophical dilemma, a philosopher.  If we had a mechanical problem he would have sent a mechanic, and if a plumbing problem, a plumber.  But we had a sin problem that was robbing us from God’s glory, we needed a savior, for no other sacrifice would do.  So he sent his only son, Jesus Christ, the right tool for the repair for sin in our lives, the right fit, the only fit.  No need for adjustable religion, or a Whitworth version, the gospel was revealed to man via Jesus in a one size will fit the forgiveness of all sin.  No more skinned knuckles, extra classes or tools to purchase, no clubs to join, and no special tools.  No monthly payments of remedies bought on time, God made the gospel simple so we could get it, and free so we can afford it.  While some deal with issues in doctrinal differences, Jesus came to point out the fallacies of religion and point us to righteousness, to forgive us and give us a hope and a future.   To provide us with the oil of joy, the holy spirit, to guide, encourage, direct, and comfort.  Along with a workshop manual for life called the Bible.  For man will not fix his relationship with God alone, but out of the daily bread needed to feed us what we need.  Religion made easy, if only the Whitworth religious could get it...

But yet too many still approach Jesus like my friend who was working on his truck when I walked in.  Hearing his voice, I found him under his pickup, using the seven words you used to not be able to say on TV.  “Mike is that you?  Hand me a wrench.”  When I asked “what size,” his answer should have surprised me but didn’t.  “I don’t care, I’m gonna use it for a hammer...”  So I handed him a big one, just in case it was a big bolt.  Never thinking to ask if it was metric or standard....but somehow knowing it wasn’t Whitworth.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

pit passes

It was just a temporary fence, the kind of barrier put up to keep the crowds behind it, but what a difference what side of it you were on made.  As a race team sponsor for SCORE, I was used to just walking into pit areas and being welcomed, but at the short course race tonight in Las Vegas, as the crowds stood watching, hoping to get a glimpse of a racer, and maybe an autograph, here I sat, on the other side of the fence.  They had no idea who I was, but the fact I was inside and they weren’t must mean I was someone important.  Which caught me off guard for a while, as I knew I wasn’t, I was just a sponsor, one of the many who it takes to make up the races, and part of many teams.  It was the sponsorship that had gained me entrance, that got me the special pass, that allowed me to be behind the scenes.  From going up to the will call window and getting the special pass, to flashing it to the security guard to let me in, after turning away other lesser pass holders.  I had all the posters, stickers, autographs needed, but what hit me was what the pass meant.  I was special, that pass allowed me entrance, without it I was barred from entering.  And sitting there eating from the prerace catered meal, with many first class choices, it took a group of race fans eating hot dogs to put it all in perspective.  I was more of the hot dog person...and they would never know that without the price of sponsorship I was one of them, they would never know just  how much that sticker on the car really cost. And no way was I going to give it up.

Inside the fence I was somebody, outside just another race fan.  But at the Baja 1000 in 1995, when I brought a bunch of friends from the SONY plant in Mexico with me, it hit home.  I knew many of the racers, as most fans do.  But cruising up a side street in Tijuana to avoid the crowds, I ran into Ivan Stewart.  Who when he saw me, called out to me, and we walked together, introducing him to my friends who were in awe.  He was their hero and just seeing the race was a big deal, but meeting him and having their picture taken with him was beyond words.  But it was a quote from Mario their supervisor who put it all in perspective, “you said you knew him, I didn’t know he was your friend.”  Ivan knew me, that was impressive to them.  That day they had gained access to the other side of the fence, a day they will never forget.  And because I was Ivan’s friend, he was their friend too, with the pictures to prove it.  All because I was their friend. 

Some cults disguised as religions deny the deity of Jesus Christ.  They tell how he is a created angel, a created being, and not the son of God, or God as God claims he is.  They portray him as a created being, an angel, when he is much more and needs to be given his proper place.  In Hebrews we read God asking “to whom have ever said you are my son?”  “Or I will be his father and he will be my son?”  We forget that angels were created, but that Jesus was begotten, having the same nature, while things created take on a different nature.  Therefore the angels cannot have the same relationship with God as Jesus does, but because of Jesus we can.  No angel can save, they are servants, or messengers of the gospel.  Jesus is the gospel brought to life, God made in the image of a man, so we can be saved and forgiven.  Yet many give too much credence to angels, claiming guardian angels watching over them.  How many bikers have an angel bell?  But how many realize that Jesus has power of the angels, and can command them at any time?  Are we friends of the begotten one or friends of his creation?  Who do you worship, who do you call out to in times of trouble?  No angel ever died on the cross for us, only Jesus.  Angels cannot have the same relationship with God as can the son, but we can.  And it all comes down to who you say Jesus is.

As Christians we have been marked by God in a spiritual way, he identifies us as his.  Writes our name in the book of life, gives us the holy spirit, and sends us out to proclaim the gospel.  Yet like at the races, many only buy a ticket to the event, and never gain access to where the action is.  But in Christ, we gain entrance into heaven, with all wisdom of God available, no longer servants, but friends.  An eternal pass that doesn’t need renewing, but that does need upkeep, as any relationship does.  And by his spirit, we will be with him for everlasting.  Maybe the difference between heaven and hell is which side of the fence you are on, inside and safe, or outside wishing you were in.  Simply put, the gates of hell do not keep people out, they keep people in, they want to escape the terror and pain.  None of them have the pass that gets them into heaven, but God offers it to all who still are alive and breathing.  He wants to be your friend, will you be his?

Is a sticker on your car the only thing that identifies you as a Christian?  Does church attendance or membership mean to you that you are gong to heaven?  Or have you met Jesus, and been given a pit pass to heaven?  Racing passes get you into the pits, his pass saves you from the pit of hell.  Jesus paid for your pass, all you need to do is pick it up, will call is waiting.  When people meet you, can they say about you, “I knew you were a Christian, I didn’t know Jesus knew you?”  Jesus knows my name, and calls me friend.  Can you say the same?

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25biker.blogspot.com

 

Lord I wasn't born a Rambler man

For the first 17 years of my life, my main view of driving came from the back seat of my parents succession of Ramblers.  Looking out the windshield between them, or mostly looking out of the side window, it was all about to change when I got my driver’s license.  My parents never drove very far, the longest trip was to my grandparents some 60 miles away, mostly on Route 22.  I never knew if it was east or west or north or south, when we got to it we turned left, good enough for me.  And so Route 22 was the focal point of my travels early on.  Amost memorizing the Jersey stretch after years of boredom.  Route 22 was America, or maybe all that was wrong with America, from the Flagship, an old night club that looked like a battleship, to the Leaning Tower of Pizza diner, with a real leaning tower out front, it was also home to Two Guys, a discount Jersey chin of department stores, Korvettes who took its place, and the first shopping centers.  Going toward Pennsylvania, west, you passed HoJo’s, Eber’s, various old tourist cottages and motels, and many stop lights, this was also like an old surface street as we would call it today.  Pass the Texas Weiners, the numerous diners, a Jersey staple, and finally giving way to farmland, all within 35 miles.  Farm stands selling corn and dairy products, and into Clinton where the women’s prison was, something tough to figure, weren’t all women like our mothers or teachers?  How could a woman be bad?  Down Jugtown Mountain, into Phillipsburg, or Pburg to the locals, a hamburger, french fries and a Coke at the Key Diner, across the bridge and you are in Pennsy.  And Route 22 continues, all the way into Columbus, Ohio....

But once I had my license, I was on my way out of town, of course on the road I knew best.  Stopping at the places my parents passed by, eating a Texas weiner, a kosher hot dog sold by a Greek owner, eating 15 cent burgers at Steer Inn, and passing the only place they did stop, Ho JO’s for dinner on Friday night, for fried clams.  I checked out Great Eastern Mills, the antidote for Korvettes and the best place to buy 8 tracks, and cruised carefree at 60 miles per hour, in 45 zones in heavy traffic.  Such was Jersey in the sixties....But reaching Pburg it was always a stop at the Key Diner, where we would meet my Grandpa, but never the Turnabout just down the road.  But always a stop at Jim’s Doggie Stand, move over Texas Weiner!  With so many memories of the road and the places and the faces...seen entirely different from behind the wheel than from behind the front seat.

An old friend of mine and I were talking about safe Christians the other day, the pew fillers who do nothing else but support whatever the church says, and confuse Jesus with the church.  Many times slaves to whatever the pastor says, and developing a religion mirroring scripture, but denying Jesus.  They spend their entire Christian lives like I did when riding in the back seat of the Rambler, just seeing what I was supposed to see per the driver, and any suggestions or comments dismissed or ignored.  As reflected in their prayer life.  And a cursory interpretation of the gospel.  Staunch believers, but like Agent 99 used to say, “missed by that much.”  Their Bibles are found clean except for a few pages highlighted, and are known by reading the weekly Christian book advised by their pastor.  A life of legalism, void of the spirit, with no tolerance for the truth, only what they were taught.  But not always how they lived. And when trouble comes, they are tossed about like the waves, going wherever the waves or wind takes them, with a pastoral staff unequipped or unwilling to help.  Seems they still spend too much time in the back seat also....on Route 22.

It has been said our true character shows when we are alone and facing danger.  Two weeks ago today a man and wife we know faced calamity.  He professing to be a Christian, raped and murdered three women, and shot one in the head, raping the third while she bled to death next to him.  The details are unclear, but for two days he stayed home, his wife not knowing her husband was the killer, until the house was raided and the police arrested her, thinking she had to know.  For 12 hours facing their wrath, discovering her husband not the man she thought she knew, and being grilled mercilessly.  I cannot imagine her emotions, or state of mind, but after 12 hours was released as she was innocent.  She had faced her trial by fire, promoted from a back seat to being in the front seat, and the scriptures now have a new meaning to her.  Suffering from PTSD she now can see the suffering of Jesus in a new way, but also his mercy.  When faced with danger, she clung to Jesus, although she was screaming for her husband when she was abducted at 5 am.  Why didn’t he answer?  Now she knows....and the critics are lining up advising as to what she should have done.  “I would have...” as if you know what you would do given the situation.  She has received obscene phone calls and death threats....gaining an insight as to how Jesus felt when wrongly accused.  Only the truth of knowing her set her free. 

You see when I finally got out and drove by myself, I saw the world differently.  So it is with Jesus.  When we follow him instead of a denomination, a pastor, a writer or a teaching, we know the truth.  He is familiar, and we know where to turn, just as Jesus turned to his father.  Until Jesus becomes real on your life, you will never experience the depth of the scriptures, the comfort of the holy spirit, and know his peace.  You may work in the church, volunteer, and be known as a Christian, but until scripture becomes more than the rote answer, until it is spirit driven, you may be saved but miss out of the on earth as it is heaven part of Jesus.  You may have every answer until you find you haven’t heard every question.  You may pray beautifully out loud, feed the hungry, and give to missions, but until Jesus is Lord of your life, you are wide open to whatever may come your way.  That higher power is not always Godly as one group claims.  Only Jesus can solve the biggest problem of man, sin.  Religion may suggest, Jesus knows first hand.  And for those of us who have had our character tested in times of great stress, we know only Jesus is the way, only he can rescue.  Your church, your beliefs, your religion may not guarantee your name in the book of life.  God keeps notes on us, read Malachi, not because he forgets, but so we have an album to look back on.  Remember this Mike...” as I spend time with him.  Funny how the toughest times are the ones we look back on fondly and see how Jesus worked it all out.  Beware, your time of testing may be coming, that 5 am wake up call when least expected. And you will be tested....

The first lessons you get when saved will shape your walk just as the first roads you drive will shape where you go.  When children we were taught as children, and acted like children, fed the milk of the gospel.  Now as adults we need the solid food, the spirit, to nourish us.  That morning our friend’s life changed forever, but she still has a forever to look forward to.  She will get by, but only in Christ.  I know having been there and tested.  Which can be summed up in one sentence, “all I know is Jesus.”  If God is only your co-pilot, you are better off in the back seat.  That’s not lordship, only with Jesus behind the wheel will you be assured of getting to where you are going.  Unless Jesus is the lead dog, your views will never change....so glad I wasn’t born a Rambler man.

love with compassion,

Mike

matthew25bikr.blogspot.com