Our church fellowship had a huge gathering each summer at Newport Dunes, a lot of activities and an evening service with music and a message. I rode there on my Honda 350 from my home in Long Beach, and Ken asked for a ride back. Then at a light in Seal Beach, the bike stalled, short on gas, just as the light turned green. I quickly turned the valve for the gas reserve, started right away, maybe taking five seconds. But that exhausted the patience of the car driver behind me. Honking, then…
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Look Closer
At Mount Hermon, walks through the redwoods not only reveal God’s love of beauty, but they enhance the spiritual tone of the conference. So, like always, I carved out some time to take a trail down to Bean Creek. And loving the art of trout fishing, my first thought at seeing the pool shown above was, “Dang, wish I’d brought my fly rod!” The hole held at least six likely homes for hungry trout.But I quickly calmed down, knowing…
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image from 4.bp.blogspot.com
Whispers
Yeah, I’ve reached 71, and that explains it some. Add much too much loud rock and roll in earlier years, dancing right in front of the speakers to sense the vibration in my chest, and together they explain my frequent, “Can you please repeat that?” Not quite bad enough for artificial ears, but enough to bother me some. I find myself copying my mom—when she didn’t hear what someone said, she’d smile and nod her head, praying she didn’t commit herself unknowingly. But …
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image by trevorthorpetravels
Latched Up
Thursday of this week, I’ll head up the CA coast on Hwy 1, the classic route through Big Sur, to teach at the Mount Hermon Christian Writers Conference, and hang with some witty writers. A couple of years ago I did the same route, and must have seen two dozen Mustang convertibles. Rentals, I guess. And no better way to enjoy that stretch than a convertible—unless rain descends. But seeing several Stangs on that clear blue-skied day shocked me—their tops were up and latched, like the one in the pic. Rather than basking in the openness of God’s creation, they chose…
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Easy Riding
I’ve been a Riter all my life, a motorcycle rider for 49 years, and a published writer for 25. So when Todd Hafer, an acquisitions editor at Harvest House Publishing, asked if I had a book idea for bikes, I hopped on board with a grin and a silent shout of joy. That became the book God, a Motorcycle, and the Open Road, with an earlier working title of Easy Riding. Yeah, an allusion to the old film Easy Rider and my name. That book unofficially releases tomorrow, April 1, and officially on Tuesday. Obviously, I’m excited to blend my loves of
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A Startling God--With Practical Consequences
Jesus has startled me on more than once, but he likely maxed that out with “even the very hairs of your head are all numbered.” OK, no jokes about me making God’s job easier. The first pic shows me at 27, with a red tank top and a full head of hair. The second shows me this year, how I’ve “gained face” over the years. Yeah, the times they have changed me. And while I don’t doubt Jesus meant this literally, it also serves as a greater metaphor. A greater metaphor with two primary facets …
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Image from Motorcycle Philosophy
Adapt, Don't Quit
Somewhere on the Going to the Sun Road in Glacier National Park lies an otherwise nondescript turnout, much like above. No monument marks it, tourists don’t drive by to gawk at a historical site, and honestly, few would care to see it even after this story. But asphalt can teach a lesson. I’ve known Jerry since high school daze; he’s one of my best friends and we regularly take long rides on the bikes each year. But his very short legs have led to…
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Walden Pond by Literary Hub
Risky Business
This hippie biker, shoulder length hair and a beard uncut for several months, pulled his semi-chopped Honda 750 with an Easy Rider paint scheme, into a parking spot at a Howard Johnson in Massachusetts,as a family with a dad and mom and 5 year old boy pulled alongside in a sedan. They struck up a conversation, intrigued by a trip with no set destination, just a desire to see America, so they asked me…
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