A Good Bed?

Tim Riter July 15, 2019

Trees intrigue me with the lessons they yield about following Jesus. The terms “Christ follower” or “Jesus follower” have grown in usage lately, for the good. Why? They require action. Following. Too often, “Christian” refers to what we believe, to the nation we live in. But following goes deeper. On that stroll with John through the redwoods of Cowell State Park near Mount Hermon, we found the Fremont Tree. A sign read that “legend claims that in 1848, Col. John C. Fremont slept here.” Fremont’s “bed” reminded me of what Jesus once said about beds, …”

glacier-national-park-from youramazingplaces.com.jpg

Addictions

Tim Riter July 8, 2019

My first and almost forced ride on a Honda Trail 90, interested me, watching Easy Rider in 1970 entranced me, but riding a Honda 350 Scrambler to Canada hooked me. Since then I’ve ridden about a quarter of a million miles in 46 states and three countries. Call me addicted, and I won’t argue. But to more than…

Joined

Tim Riter July 1, 2019

Two separate trees leaned toward each other so long they grew together. Two trunks merging into one. Yeah, you see where we’re heading. The reality of joining lives until…

When Biking Isn't Enough

Tim Riter June 24, 2019

A few months ago I did a radio interview with Moody Radio NW on the biker book, God, a Motorcycle, and the Open Road, arranged by Don Otis of Veritas Communications, and received an email from a Montana listener who recommended a gorgeous stretch of asphalt that skirted Bull Lake. Ironically, just the summer before I’d ridden that road with a friend. It did impress us! I mentioned that to Don, and he said he’d hiked in that area to Rock Lake, only accessible by trail. Yep, our bikes would not have taken us there. That got me thinking…

Blasted!

Tim Riter June 17, 2019

For decades now, I’ve loved adventure, to push my limits. I even created a line, “If you never push your limits, you’ll never realize your true courage and abilities.” But that flows from my innate timidity—yeah, it comes close to my name. So I decided to face and conquer my fear. At 26, I embarked on a 3 month, 13,000 mile, 31 state motorcycle tour of the US. I rappelled down a 190 ft. Rio Grande bridge tower, on a 120 ft. rope. Just last summer, I did an Iron Butt ride, 1,080 miles in 16 hours on 2 wheels. At 70. Yeah, some of us never learn. Then…

When Angels Ride Along

Tim Riter June 10, 2019

As did nearly all bikes back then, my Honda 350 Scrambler had a chain drive that needed daily maintenance—lubing and tightening the chain. Well, I’d fallen in love with the unity of biker, bike, and the road, and did more riding than maintaining. The bike rode well, even though it was loaded high with a backpack strapped to the sissy bar. Pulling out of Banff on highway 93 in the magnificent Canadian Rockies, heading for Idaho, I took full advantage of the bike. Heading into a long, sweeping turn to the right, I barely noticed the 35 mph sign, doing at least 60. OK, maybe more. But I had a good line, until…

Overgrown

Tim Riter June 3, 2019

Among California’s coastal redwoods, a small stream crossed under a bridge on the trail, and then disappeared. Looking closer, I discovered it hadn’t gone underground--it re-emerged not far below. Instead, the moderate climate and abundance of rainfall in the Santa Cruz mountains led to the stream side bushes to grow over and completely cover the stream, for maybe 25 feet. Trust me, a stream IS below the brush! Not a huge issue, unless…

Kissing Concrete

Tim Riter May 27, 2019

Snick. With the push of a button, the garage door descended. Snick. With another button, my new acquisition, a 2005 Honda ST1300, purred into life. This was my first long, break-in ride before I rode it to Glacier National Park. By day’s end, we rode 340 miles through the mountains and valleys and beaches, the ranches and farms and cities of Ventura and Kern Counties. I renewed a friendship from decades earlier, met a new riding partner, and reconnected with one from our summer touring group. But now all of us lay face down, kissing concrete, with multiple pistols pointed at our heads, with tense faces behind them…

Unconventional

Old Faith, New Following