Sunday, May 17, 2009
Secrets of Bikers and Believers
I've always wanted one, but can't afford it, really. Well maybe I could, but, priorities ..... So, as luck would have it, my future son-in-law was shipped off to Iraq, and I'm babysitting his 'bike'. "Just warm it up now and then - keep the oil flowing, don't let the tires get stiff" -he asked. OK, right. (they used to do dowries, but this is better I think.) Thanks Jeremy - I'm trying to keep the miles low!! (this is a picture of 'our' gas cap).
Last weekend I did a 120 mile roundtrip through North Texas, on the brink of a terrible thunderstorm. There is no place like Texas for Harley riders - no place. The roads are well done, the slopes and curves are exciting, the wind blows and the sky never ends. The sunsets are unmatched (and I know what I'm talking about people). From my garage in Plano, I'm in the Texas countryside within 10 minutes. Cows, horses, tractors - and me. It's breathtaking. And I'm alone, on a powerful, growling machine (a work of art on wheels). By the way, I forbid any of my sons or daughters from EVER getting on one of these things (do as I say ....)
Pretty much, all I ever do is jump on the bike and go to a nearby Starbucks for a drip - early in the morning or late in the evening - low traffic times. I like to pull up close, make a lot of noise, casually swing my leg over the seat and disembark. Slowly take off my dark glasses, look right, look left, slide the keys into my black leather vest pocket. I put on a show - people either hate you or admire you - such is life. (I can be such a narcissist sometimes - I know it - sorry).
Wow, I'm off the point. Here it is: do you know there's a bikers 'brotherhood' out there? I didn't know this - absolutely didn't know. Everytime I ride and I pass another biker, without fail, I get the 'salute'. The salute is when a rider, every rider, passes - he sticks out his left arm, slightly downward toward the pavement - making a fist or a V sign. It's a wave, but very deliberately done. So now I do it - I do the salute. I don't make friends easily, so this is good for me. You can be on any model or manufacturer - you don't have to be on a Harley. I'm part of a fraternity, a loose gang of sorts - finally! What we all have in common is that we are experiencing something special, and only we know what it is. It's our secret, and we are proud to have that secret, and hold that secret. And we're proud of each other, we respect each other for taking the bold step of riding with the wind in our hair - carefree - gutsy. If you don't 'get it' - too bad. You have to be one of us to really get it. It's true by the way. And all you have to do to belong, is to ride. But when you're not actually on the bike, and you happen to pass the very same guy, you've got nothing.
Belief in Christ is like that - but still different. You can't possibly know what the big deal is, until you try it. Then, when you pass a fellow believer, you should want to share the secret. Unfortunately, most "Christians" don't do any saluting - well, they think they do, subconsciously, when they go to church on Sunday, in the foyer, in the parking lot, you get the 'hey - ya, I'm likely a Christian too' nod. Or maybe by carrying a Bible, you are signaling the secret sign of membership - a brotherhood / sisterhood - in something.
In the book of Revelation there's a frightening thing. 3:14-16 the Lord says there are a bunch of us Christians who are fakes - we straddle the fence - we play games. He says its better to be cold or hot. When he thinks of those 'lukewarm' types, he wants to vomit. Yikes, serious talk for the creator of the universe. You're either the real thing, or you're not. And apparently He won't be duped like passing 'Christians' in the parking lot. Flashing a secret code thing doesn't cut it. He's serious, dead serious. End times, Second Coming kind of serious. Eternity kind of serious.
I'm working on being hot! - not cold, not lukewarm - staying off the fence, falling to one side or the other is better than pretending in the middle ......... it's hard, no joke.