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…
Read MoreLook 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…
Read MoreLatched 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…
Read MoreEasy 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
Read MoreAdapt, 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…
Read MoreRisky 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…
Read MoreDisoriented
I began skiing in my early twenties at the old Blue Ridge Ski area in SoCal, and then thought that our California Concrete—heavy, icy, and packed—was normal. Then I moved to Taos and discovered powder. Totally different than California Concrete: so dry you could hardly pack it into a snowball, so soft you’d sink a foot deep as your skis compressed the fluffy cotton. One night Taos got inundated with over four feet of snow so I grabbed my ski gear and headed up the mountain.I exulted in unweighting and making S turns, until…
Read MoreGear Up!
I’ve played a lot of football. Pickup tackle games in HS and college and later, wearing just T shirts and shorts. Intramural in college, even several seasons in a competitive flag league in my mid 50s. But the pic above depicts a different way to play football. In my mid 40s, Temecula had the Over the Hill Pigskin Shoot Out, where guys over 30 strapped on pads and played for charity. The pic above was the first game—and the first time I…
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