In Dry Dock

With the weather being as delightful as it's been (read: either unseasonably warm and unreasonably rainy, or dry and bone cold), I decided to pull both bikes under cover and perform some much-needed maintenance on them. The Triumph "Mathilda" is in the basement shop, which is too cluttered to accommodate the Royal Star "Bertha", so it's parked over my friend Jeff's house.
Both girls were in mucho need of oil/filter changes, tranny, coolant, brake and clutch fluid replacement, and brake pads. Good time to get them both ready for spring. Can't wait to get back out on the road with them soon. Getting riding "ants in my pants."

A Memorable Project

This past weekend, I completed the work I'd been doing on the 1969 Triumph T100 for a customer. An old friend named Steve, himself the owner of a 1970 Bonneville, helped me fine-tune the carburetor, make a few more adjustments, and suddenly it was finished. We took turns running it up and down the long, winding road Lisa and I live on, to insure everything was set. It most certainly was.
As much of a headache as it was at times working on such an old bike, the thrill of blasting down the road on it was visceral. Kick-starting it to life, getting on that throttle, hearing those straight pipes howl, and the hard shifting up and down through the gears, on the left side no less, brought out feelings I'd never experienced on a bike before. Honestly, prior to this bike, I had never ridden a motorcycle as old as this one. My dad had a '72 Triumph TR6 when I was a kid, and that's the oldest bike I'd ever been on, prior to this. So I felt my inner "hooligan" welling up as I roared up and down the road on her.
Don't get me wrong- I love the feeling of raw acceleration on my Triumph Sprint, and the powerful torque of my big Yamaha Royal Star. But this bike made me feel like James Dean or Marlon Brando, a "Wild One" on two old classic wheels. I was grinning ear-to-ear with every run.
I used to think the old bikes were cool to look at, to hear, to see on the road, but I never wanted one for myself. Too much work to keep them road-worthy. Now, after getting this one back on the road, I'm not so sure I'd turn one down if the opportunity arose. To be sure, you need to carry a tool kit along if you ride one of these for any time or distance. But for fun around town, and down winding, country roads, I could definitely channel my inner hooligan for another chance to ride, or even own, one of these old classics.

Fresh Meat

This past week I met a guy named Kurt, a friend of Tanya, an old student of mine from back in my First Baptist Snellville days. Kurt owns the above 1969 Triumph T100 motorcycle. He asked my help in getting it running again, having heard I've done a few motorcycles over the past few years. Intrigued, I agreed to ride up to his house and have a look at the bike, and see if it was something I could help with. Not exactly a master mechanic, I asked my father to join me, who along with my mother was coming up last week to celebrate my last (and hopefully final) chemo treatment. Now, I had an old Triumph "master" to give me his assessment as well. Dad's owned various old Triumphs since the days of his youth, and knows these old bikes very well.
We arrived at Kurt's home, and were ushered to this gem sitting in his garage. He also owns a 1966 Mustang fastback, which he's owned since his youth- it was his first car, and he kept it. Very cool! Kurt said the bike kicks over (literally, it is a full kick-start), runs for about 40 secs, then quits. Immediately we suspected either debris blocking fuel flow to or even through the two petcocks, or a carburetor gummed up. The old British Amal carbs were notorious for having issues, yet Dad had worked on plenty over the years. He's helped me with several carb jobs, a few tank reseal jobs, and we've tackled petcock rebuilds, so knowing I had his experience to help me, I agreed to take it on.
I came back Friday and picked up the bike in the rain (we've had a bit of that lately), and got it back to my little "shop" at home. Looks pretty good, down in my man-cave, I must say!
Getting into the old Amal carb, I was able to take it completely out and apart, gave it a thorough piece-by-piece cleaning, then reassembled it.

Pretty cool, doing an old carb off a vintage Triumph that's almost as old as I am- almost! Next, I'll need to tackle the tank, give it a cleaning, then go through the twin petcocks. Hopefully within a week or so, I can wheel it back out, give it a kick-start, and she'll not only start, but run. And run, and run.
I have learned a lot over the past few years of finding/fixing/flipping motorcycles. And it's helped having an old veteran motorcycle rider and mechanic as a father too.
Looking forward to breathing life back into this baby!

A Day in Ellijay

Saturday I rode up into the north Georgia mountains with my CMA Kneebenders friends, for a day at the annual Ellijay Apple Festival. The day started at dawn, as I layered upand rode into town to meet my friends Monte and Lynn. The am temp was 41, and we froze as we rode up to Oakwood to meet the rest of the group. After some hot coffee and warm waffles, we all rode north to Dawsonville, then northeast toward Ellijay. Our northern trajectory and increase in elevation was offset by a brilliant ever-rising sun, resulting in a gradual thawing of our extremities. We took in some great roads, like GA53 and GA136, with thrilling mountainside sweepers and some breathtaking overlooks.
Arriving in Ellijay, the sun fully overhead, we encountered the dreaded but expected traffic jam to find parking at the fairgrounds. Inching along, the multiple thermal layers covering me were now retaining heat too well. By the time we turned in at a designated motorcycle parking area, I quite literally was drenched in sweat. Disregarding modesty, I stood behind my bike and stripped down to my boxers, tearingoff my soaked thermals as quickly as possible.
Finally cool, we all set off through the crowds and made our way to the state CMA tent, where we found members from about five other regional chapters gathered. We enjoyed meeting and hanging out with these fellow "bikers for Jesus", greeting passersby, giving out free coffee and water. For lunch, we each wandered off to sample the typical Southern fare- fried chicken, fried ribs, fried potato wedges, fried hot dogs, fried Oreos, fried pickles, fried Twinkies,...you get the idea. A delicious, artery-clogging smorgasbord.
As the afternoon wore on, some of us decided to start the long trek back home. Taking the same roads, we enjoyed the twists and turns again, this time from the opposite direction. I love doing this, seeing some sights missed on the way north, as well as the familiar waypoints. I arrived home about 6pm, ears ringing, fingers getting frosty again, a little neck and back sore, but having thoroughly loved it (except for the traffic part). I always relish a day in the saddle with my Christian brothers and sisters.

The Seca Finds a New Home

After a good 10 months of on/off working and tinkering to get it running again, I finally sold the old 1980 Yamaha Seca XJ550 today. A young classic Yamaha collector saw it on Craigslist, had to have it, and came over from Woodstock to buy it from me. He was thrilled with it, and rode it home, while his friend followed behind.
Its hard to believe the bike is gone. I've sunk so much time, money, and energy into bringing it back to life (with a colossal amount of help from my father and several friends) over the past year, I was a little sad to watch the new owner ride off with it.

I first discovered the bike from my UPS guy, Ronney. He had bought it as a true "barn-find", languishing in an old barn. He bought it and began work on it, hoping to give it to his son. That never materialized, and so the bike sat in Ronney's garage for the next several years, collecting more dust and rust. He mentioned it to me one day a couple of years ago, when he made a delivery one afternoon. I pursued him over it for the better part of 2014, until he relented and sold it to me last December. I then wrenched on it off and on over this year, until we finally got it running and on the road, for probably the first time in possibly decades. I've had several motorcycle shop owners tell me it is a rare bike, a collectors item, so I'm glad it has ended up in the hands of a collector.
Now, off to look for the next project bike...

A Weekend Running the Track

I spent this past weekend in Munford, Alabama, riding the Talladega Grand Prix racing track with N2 Track Days. I've been a member with them for the 2-3 years, and they put on excellent track day events across the east. This weekend would be no different.
I had not done a track day since July 2013, and had never done an entire weekend. I was both excited and a little anxious. I knew I would learn a lot from the N2 people, and the riding would be thrilling, but I also knew the dangers involved in this sport. I didn't want to "go down", didn't want to damage man nor machine. Still, the anticipation of riding my cycle on a race track at speed outweighed the fears.
Several of our CMA (Christian Motorcyclists Assn.) KneeBenders chapter came over Friday night for the event. Jonathan, our president, actually an N2 regional director, was here, as was Monte, his wife Lynn, and Test, who had not registered to ride, but spent the weekend with us in the paddock. We set up our camping sites, got the bikes and CMA tents situated, then prepared for a fun, fast weekend on two wheels.
Saturday morning began with registration, tech inspection, then a preliminary, mandatory rider's meeting. The event director, John Cook, went over track rules, meanings of the different flags, and hand signals of the corner monitors and control riders. Introducing the control riders, he explained their roles on the track during sessions. They served as coaches, referees, and guides. Riders are divided into three categories- Advanced, Intermediate, and Novice (my group). The novice riders attended another meeting, while the other two groups prepared to ride.
My friend Jonathan was the assistant event director, and he led us in the novice meetings and on the track. Another friend of mine, Brian Morris, is now a control rider as well, and took me and a couple others on to coach during the event. I learned so much from him over the weekend, his one-on-one coaching and mentoring was invaluable.

Our first sessions on the track were slower and well-supervised Saturday morning. As the day progressed, the control riders gave more tips on our riding techniques, by leading us around the track, pointing out race lines, braking/downshifting zones, and often following behind us, observing our ever-improving riding abilities. I could write a separate blog post on the techniques I learned from Brian, over both days. N2 control riders have to be among the best coaches I've ever had in rider training schools.
We rode seven 20-minute sessions Saturday, and I was spent that night. A nice shower, some late night fellowship and ministry (see my other blog), and I was off to bed. Sunday brought new riders for the day, another round of tech inspection and riders' meetings, then back on the track. We had two a.m. sessions, followed by an 11am "quiet time" in which CMA held a Bible study for anyone who wanted to attend.
Bikes and riders were back on the track by noon for another set of five afternoon sessions. Under Brian's coaching, as well as a couple other CRs (Quentin & Samir), my speeds kept coming up, my body positions improved across the bike, and my lean angles in the corners got deeper. I never "dragged a knee" as they like to call it, but judging from some photos (not this one), I got close!

Rain set in mid-afternoon, so after three post-lunch sessions, I called it quits, and began to pack up. Some stayed, and rode their final sessions in the rain for the experience. I was exhausted, yet satisfied, so Test, Monte & Lynn, and myself decided to head east for home. Jonathan had to stay to help break down N2's equipment. Lynn had ridden all the way over on her Ninja 250, but we convinced her to let me tow her bike home with mine. We all hit the road, with worn-out bodies, grit-covered bikes, and smiles on our faces. Many new skills, improved others, deepened confidence- a weekend well worth the expense and time. I'll definitely "pinch pennies" and try to do another weekend with N2 in the near future.
I believe every rider should.

2 Days with 2 Friends

I spent a Friday and Saturday riding the mountains of North Georgia and North Carolina with two old friends from my youth, Lyle Branton and Jimmy Jimmerson. We live in three of the four corners of Atlanta- Lyle lives on the southside in the hometown of us all, Fayetteville, while Jimmy lives on the top end, in Alpharetta, and we live out east, in Dacula. We met up toward Jimmy, at a little Mexican eatery, then rode north.
Our travels first took us up to the Georgia/North Carolina border town of Hiawassee, where Jimmy's family owns a mountain cottage we would spend the night at. We took the long way around, to and through Helen, on up mountain roads into town and up the mountain (literally) to the cabin. After dropping our gear, we took off for a ride over to Dillard, where an annual Barbeque cook-off and Bluegrass festival was kicking off for the weekend. We wandered around, sampled a little of the local fare in BBQ and "pickin' & grinnin'" before hopping back on the bikes and making our way back to Hiawassee by dark.
We stayed up into the night, talking, laughing, reminiscing together. Anytime I can get with these guys is time well-spent. Lyle and I have been best friends since we were both 12 years old, and I befriended Jimmy at church in my 10th grade year. After high school, I introduced them to each other, and they in turn became fast friends over the years as well. We've been there for each other's life events over the decades, be it marriages, childbirths, adoptions, family crises, career changes, child graduations. I've heard it said that if you go through life with a couple of close friends, you've done well. That is certainly true of the three of us. Many friends have come and gone in each of our lives, but the bonds we share have stood the test of time. "A cord of three strands is not easily broken." Ecclesiastes 4:12

We were up early Saturday, cleaned up the place and hit the road, tackling the fantastic twisties and sweepers found throughout the hills of North Georgia and North Carolina. The guys had to stop in for some more BBQ at the festival in Dillard, and we found ourselves judging in the cook-off for the "People's Choice Awards"! That made for a fun, rather filling, afternoon, with more foot-stomping Bluegrass ringing in our ears. We took to the roads again, into North Carolina toward Otto, Scaly Mountain, and back into Georgia through Rabun, Mountain City, and Clayton, before making our way south to our homes again. A few hundred miles, many memories made with good friends.
Proverbs 17:17

Almost Complete

I've been working on a little project bike in my basement off and on for several months, and it's getting close to completion. It's a 1981 Yamaha Seca 550, and I'm told it's a rather rare bike with the factory headlight fairing. It seems that all the manufacturers are copying this look on their "retro" models (see Yamaha Bolt R-Spec, H-D Street, Ducati Scrambler, etc.). This is an original!
I acquired it from my UPS guy, who had it in his garage for several years. It's been a BIG labor of love (i.e. many issues), but for the first time in possibly 5-6 years or more, it is running, and as soon as I sort out some minor issues, I hope to sell it- unless I fall in love with it and decide to keep it!
I've been riding it up and down the street, letting everything seat, seal, and settle. It's the smallest street bike I've ever had and worked on, as well as the oldest. I was graduating high school in 1981. If I sell it, I'm thinking one of two kinds of riders will want it- the guy my age who remembers those bikes from our youth, or a young "hipster" who likes the old retro look and ride. Either way, I think it will draw some attention.
I'm having some issues with the turn signals, but other than that, she's on the road again.
More to come,

The Magic Moment

As I write, dusk has begun to turn to dark, and the remains of the day are fading over the horizon. I am on the front porch, drinking in the mystical transition from day to night. I love this moment in summer evenings, this laying to rest of one world, and the awakening of another. I'm captivated by it, year after year, here in the heart of the old South.
In late June to early July, the fading light of day can still be observed as late as 9:30-45pm. The transition is palpable. The birds begin to quiet down, the squirrels and chipmunks have turned in for the night, and a subtle yet amazing transition occurs. The songs of birds are quietly replaced with the songs of crickets and cicadas, the bees in the trees are replaced with sparkling, dancing fireflies, and the frenzied activities of various diminutive, bushy-tailed mammalia are replaced with the croaks and peeps of frogs and toads. In fact, a little green tree frog just hopped onto our front door glass and has begun to scale it upward, under the watchful eye of the cats from behind the door.
Sitting in silence here, my ears filled with the night sounds, my eyes filled with the sight of our front property awash in fireflies, I am speechless in the experience. A phrase I've used before is "hints of Heaven, glimpses of glory." It certainly is.
Life is so hurried so often, I've lost focus on trying to immerse myself in these fleeting moments. It's time to recapture the wonder again, the peace of just being in it, and the reverent intimacy of worshiping the Creator of it all. The King of Kings and Lord of Lords. The God of summer storms and fireflies, the Giver of gentle evening breezes and green tree frogs.

Perilous Speeds

Last weekend, my CMA group rode to north Georgia and did a little "Ministry on the Mountain" as we called it. We had packed water bottles, a collapsible cooler, plenty of Gospel tracts and "bike blessing" stickers, and rode up to the Richard B Russell Scenic Highway, above Cleveland. It was the near-perfect day- not too hot, enough cloud cover and breeze to keep cool, and plenty of riders out on the roads. We set up atop the parkway at a scenic overlook and soon, riders were turning in and out, while riding up and down the road. We had plenty of opportunities to strike up conversations, to offer water, and to pray for riders as they pulled in. Several of our guys shared their stories of salvation with folks, and it really turned into a great day.
At times, different groups of us took turns making runs up and down the parkway, while others stayed at the overlook. Three of our guys took off to ride it, followed by me and a newer member. We rode pretty brisk, but rode safe, and had a great time. As we got near the bottom, I noticed a group of bikes off the right side of a left-turning curve. Slowing down, we recognized a couple of our guys, but one was missing. Pulling over, we discovered our missing member was in fact, down the embankment about 10 feet. We rushed over and down to help, fearing the worst.
He had come out of the last curve, accelerated hard (well over 100mph), but over cooked this curve, and went wide into a small patch of roadside gravel. The path of the bike was clear- right off the road, down the embankment, into a creek. Amazingly, he was completely unhurt. The bike was fairly mangled, but he was not. Amen. He had wisely armored himself head-to-toe, so that definitely helped. Also amazing was the path he took sliding out. He narrowly missed a large, iron-rebar mailbox, and both bike and rider stopped just short of a telephone pole in the ditch. He had an angel on his shoulder, no doubt.
Serveral other riders stopped to help, and we collectively wrestled the bike back up the steep embankment. The bike was unrideable, so we stayed with him until some help could come carry him and his disabled bike back home. We prayed over him, thanking God he was (miraculously) unhurt, and he openly confessed he was going far too fast. A lesson learned, albeit the hard way.
As each of us rode for home, we took it noticeably slower, more cautious. I had also made note of another factor that contributed to our guy's "off"- he had been running on nearly bald tires, front and rear. Never good. It reminded me to always armor-up, insure the bike is in top shape, and ride wisely. Accidents on a motorcycle can happen in the blink of an eye, and can be catastrophic.
Have fun, but use your cranium for more than a helmet hanger.

Exploring New Roads

After I'd finished teaching my classes today, I dropped my gear at the house and decided to take advantage of the beautiful afternoon. I suited up and threw a leg over the Truimph, heading south through the countryside. I found some roads I had never ridden before, and turned off to explore. Getting lost in a "cage" is irritating; getting lost on a motorcycle is enjoyable. I wandered down country slivers of asphalt, by horse ranches, cattle fields, and farm land. I found some fun, twisty roads, over hills and through wooded stretches.

As a blanket of clouds pulled over above me, and the sun sank and faded behind the cover, I turned back toward home, meandering my way north back toward Dacula. I reflected how exploring new roads is much like new directions in life. "New" can be a little scary, but also thrilling. Never really knowing what to expect around the next corner can create caution and fear in our hearts. But if we move forward and "lean into the curves" of life, not recklessly but with calm and confidence, the unknown can bring unexpected wonders and exciting experiences.

God has not called us to lives of fear and isolation, afraid to take risks to avoid potential consequences. He has "given us everything we need for life and godliness", and He "has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind." I want to live life like I ride- exploring and enjoying the ride, scenery, and experiences.

A Personal Loss

This morning I awoke to a shocking and saddening (to me) discovery- Molly, my pet ball python, had died overnight. I had spent a couple of hours Sunday afternoon with her wrapped around my arms or neck, carrying her around while I went about the day, as I often do. She enjoyed time out of the aquarium, and I had her out nearly every day. She was about to shed soon, so I had prepared a warm solution to soak her in overnight, with a warm heating pad underneath, as I have regularly done as well. This has always helped her shed old skin more readily. I'm still not completely sure what happened, but when I went to check on her this morning, I found her dead in the container I use. It shocked and saddened me. I buried her out by the back of our property, grieving over her death, and blaming myself for whatever may have gone wrong.

We've had Molly for about 9 years. I first purchased her at a reptile show, my daughter Ansley with me. She was small, about 10 inches long, and brilliantly colorful. When the breeder handed her to me, she curled up in my palm and relaxed. Ansley instantly said, "Dad, let's buy her! She's perfect!" And we did. Ansley held her on the way home, and she and Kelsey, my younger daughter, both decided on her name, Molly.

Over the years, I've shown her to friends, helped people overcome their fear of snakes by holding her, brought her to churches and classrooms as an example of God's amazing design in creation, or to illustrate various Bible stories. Molly has always been a very gentle, comfortable, compliant participant. Most often, she was simply content to wrap around my neck, flitting her tongue on my ears or crawling up through my hair while around the house.

I know snakes don't have the emotional responses to their owners that dogs or cats have. But I'm convinced they develop a familiarity with their owners/handlers, and I saw that evident every time I took her out for handling. I certainly was attached to her.

So I know Molly was "just a snake", but she was a family pet, and I'm grieving over her tonight. I'm also thankful for the years God allowed me and my family to enjoy her, as well as the countless children and students over the years who have enjoyed her as well.

Back to Bikes

After nine months of dealing with cancer, chemo, and various other health-related issues, coupled with the new opportunities God has given me with teaching and the 127 Legacy Foundation, I've come back around to what I started doing two years ago. This past weekend, I purchased a non-running motorcycle from our UPS guy, a bike I've wanted to get my hands on for over a year, a 1981 Yamaha Seca 550. I'm excited, to say the least!

The tank is rusted inside pretty bad, the carbs need removal and a complete cleaning, the front brake needs to be rebuilt, and a few other minor issues. But there is much potential. It is complete, has been custom painted with factory Ferrari Red, and now from what I read online and was informed by a local motorcycle shop, its a bit of a rare bike, a collectors item. Very few of these are still intact and roadworthy. Enthusiasts are looking for them. Again, I was excited to find that out as well!

I am thankful that God opened this opportunity to me again. Its been a difficult year, and to finish it with a new bike project in the basement is one of His gifts to me, I am sure. and I am thankful. Looking forward to God's leadership and blessings in 2015.

Broken Peg

The other day while riding the Triumph back from a physical therapy appointment up in Buford, I stopped in at Northeast Georgia Motorsports outside Hoschton. After picking up a set of "Snow Paws" for my handlebars, I geared up for the remaining ride home. Their parking lot has a pretty steep grade to it, and I had backed in to more easily angle up and out upon departure. As I turned the bars right and began to let out the clutch and roll forward on the incline, suddenly the bike popped out of gear into neutral, and I quickly fumbled to get back in gear. The combination of my slow forward momentum, combined with the bars angled to the right, and my attempt to put my right foot down to steady (and finding the pavement sloping away from me), conspired to slowly tip the bike over to the right. Unable to hold up the top-heavy bike on the incline at that angle, I did my best to wrestle it down gently, to cause as little damage as possible. Immediately one of the dealership personnel rushed out to help me lift the Sprint and get it back on the side stand. He found the broken peg laying there, and after assessing the rest of the damage (a minor scrape on the fairing and on the header), I thanked him and remounted to ride home.
There was precious little to prop my foot on going home, and upon arrival I immediately began searching for a replacement part. I couldn't believe it had happened. Just the previous week, while out riding the Royal Star on another rare nice day, I tipped it over to the left at an inclined stop sign, by stalling out suddenly while attempting to accelerate away. I was not in 1st gear as normal, but had inadvertently still been in 2nd. The bike lurched and stalled, and since I was turning left, the bike just tipped that way, rocking over on the highway bars. No harm there, just embarrassment. I tipped it back up (using the proper technique), and rode off. It happened about 2 months ago too, leaving a CMA meeting one Saturday morning.
What has been going on with me? I go years and years without tipping bikes over, then it happens multiple times, in quick succession, with both bikes! Have I really lost that much strength over the past year/half? I was thinking maybe I need lighter bikes the older I get. But I love these "big heavies", and am usually quite used to their feel. Its just a good reminder to be careful with these machines, whether at speed on the roads, or in a parking lot moving slow.
Found and ordered a replacement foot peg assembly on BikeBandit.com, so I can get back on "Mathilda" as soon as possible...

By the Light of the Moon

The other night I attended a dinner with my old friends from the Spirit Riders motorcycle group. It was out at a restaurant in Auburn, GA, and I knew some nice back country roads to take there, so I rode the Triumph. As I was riding, the full moon was peaking up over the tree line in front of me, casting its beautiful, white glow over the landscape. I was awestruck, basking in the pale light as I rode along. I slowed my pace, took my time, no longer in a hurry to reach the restaurant. I gave thanks to the Lord for the indescribable beauty and peace of the moonlit evening, and the ability and health to be out relishing it.
I arrived at the restaurant, and enjoyed a wonderful evening with my old riding companions. As we all suited up for our respective journeys home, the moon was much higher in the sky, now shining more directly down on us. I decided to take the long way home, even though the temperature was dropping. As I rode in the moon glow, the breezes were blowing leaves off the trees across my path, and I noticed each one caught some of the light from above as it flitted down. Its hard to describe the visual. I had never seen, or at least never noticed, such elegance under a full moon in autumn. I rode in silent worship, impervious to the cold, just soaking in the transcendent moments.
Autumn colors, cool breezes, clear skies, and the light of a full moon. "The heavens declare the glory of God, the skies proclaim the works of His hands." -Psalm 19:1

How the Beast was Awakened

Earlier today, while riding back from a doctor's appointment in Snellville, I took the long way home on my Triumph. Passing southeast of town, I rode back country roads by pasturelands and wooded communities. Suddenly I found myself at an old familiar place on Rosebud Road, that brought back vivid memories for me. In 1996, I was driving this same road, and came upon a motorcycle at the end of a long driveway, with a "For Sale" sign on it. The bike, a Honda V65 Magna (of the type pictured above), was beautiful- shiny black and chrome, with gold lettering and striping. Looked showroom condition. I was struck by the bike, pulled over to "gawk and drool" over it, and found myself intentionally finding reasons to drive by it again and again over the subsequent week. Then one day, it was gone.
I had grown up around motorcycles, as I describe in my book, "Road Dirt", available on Amazon Books and Amazon Kindle (http://www.amazon.com/Road-Dirt-Musings-Ramblings-Preacher/dp/1492360104/ref=sr_1_1/188-0280032-0865122?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1411424332&sr=1-1&keywords=road+dirt+the+musings+%26+ramblings). Seeing this bike "awakened the beast" in me, so to speak, and I started back on the journey toward the world of motorcycling. I've since owned a Suzuki VS800 Intruder, a Yamaha Royal Star (still have it), a Kawasaki ZR-7s, a Triumph Sprint 955 ST (still have it too), and various others I have bought & sold. I've ridden north/south/east/west across America, logging thousands upon thousands of miles over the years. Riding has brought me many friendships, many treasured memories, and many opportunities to share and live out my faith in Christ with others. It's been a great ride, for sure (pun intended).
And to think it all started with a small roadside encounter in 1996...

Birthday Reflections

I turned another year older this week, 51 on Monday. It was a quiet time, no big party with cake, ice cream, presents, etc. Lisa, Kelsey and her boyfriend took me out to dinner the night before, so I spent Monday relaxing, got a massage the girls had bought for me, prepared to teach my Tuesday classes, and of course, took a motorcycle ride. Not a bad way to spend the beginning of my 51st year.
I am reflecting on the last 12 months, and all that has transpired. Last September, I was mostly recovered from two surgeries, a spinal neck surgery and a knee one. I took a 8-day road trip with a childhood friend, and spent the fall doing various things to earn a living, while still seeking the Lord about what He might have me do since leaving the full-time vocational ministry.
As 2014 began, my health went suddenly off the rails, with high blood pressure, anxiety attacks, and the discovery of an enlarged ventricle in my heart. Then by March came the discovery of bladder cancer and the subsequent surgery and chemo treatments. I've since had a colonoscopy which removed a precancerous polyp, and have been unable to put weight back on since losing 20 pounds after the cancer bout. Doctors now suspect hyperthyroid issues. Great. Another malady. All this with a guy who always felt like the picture of health.
My "half century" year was rough. Not the way I had anticipated beginning my 50s. And yet, more than the infirmities, I will recall my 50th year as one of great intimacy with and blessings from the Lord. I clung to Him and His promises in Scripture like never before, and God spoke to me in ways I will always cherish. He provided for my family's needs by miraculous means, that I'd only heard or read about in other's lives. In that sense, 50 was an amazing year that I praise God for. So as begin my 51st year, I am hopeful- for God to continue to heal me or give me peace in the midst of whatever I may face, for His leadership into new opportunities to serve His Kingdom, and for His continued protection and provision for my family. I look forward to all He will teach me this year, and the ways He will use me to be a blessing to others.
"Bless the Lord, oh my soul, and forget not all His benefits..." Psalm 103:2

Its been too long since I've posted anything here, but its been a whirlwind of a summer. I've since been asked to teach full-time at Dacula Classical Academy, teaching Biblical World History to high schoolers and then a Books of the Old Testament class to 4th-5th graders on Fridays. I'm enjoying this new experience of being a teacher, although it is somewhat different than being a pastor. Many of these students were once kids in my children's ministry when I was serving at Hebron Baptist, and grew up knowing me as "Mr. Rob." Now as their teacher, though they still call me by that name, and the ones who did not know me back then call me "Mr. Brooks", the relationship has changed. They are required to come to my classes, they must take notes and pay attention, turn in homework and various assignments, and take tests and quizzes I give them. We don't do fun music and games together, don't show entertaining videos or funny skits, and they don't come rushing in or linger after to talk with me. Yet, I understand they are on a school schedule here to get between classes, the subject matter is more advanced and academic than when they were younger, and of course, they are teenagers!
So I'm adjusting to life as a school teacher. In truth, I enjoy my role at this school- teaching world history beginning with Creation in Genesis, and moving forward with a Biblical worldview of history. I'm incorporating elements I utilized back when I used to preach on Genesis, and the discussions we are having are very rich. I hope the students are learning and enjoying our classes together. I certainly am.
The road God has led me down since leaving full-time vocational ministry last year has been a winding, at times rocky, journey. But He has guided me every step of the way, has provided for my family in ways I could have never imagined, and I've known His presence in deeper ways than ever before in my life. It has not been easy- income loss, injury, surgeries, cancer and chemo, new career paths, to name a few. But following my Lord has been worth it all, and I know will continue to be.
Still on the road,

So now we are halfway through the summer, mid-July. The cancer is gone, two months of chemo is over, and I am left to recover. I lost 20 lbs over the course of the symptoms, cancer, surgery and treatments, and I'm trying to put some of it back on. The whole ordeal sapped my strength, stamina, and muscle tone, and I still struggle to sleep through the nights. Bit by bit though, a little every day, I am regaining my health. We are eating healthier, and starting to exercise again, as my strength allows. My doctors have been the best, my wife, girls, and extended family (mine and Lisa's) have been beside me, friends have been faithful to pray for and encourage me, and most of all, God has been my "All-Sufficient One", supplying our every need according to His riches in glory (Philippians 4:19).
I've been asked to be the executive director of a new non-profit organization, the 127 Legacy Foundation, dedicated to raising awareness and support for Christian orphanages across the islands of Indonesia. Dr Abraham, our family physician and Lisa's employer, is the founder, and it's an honor to help grow this new ministry. I'm still writing for several motorcycle and ministry magazines, my book is still selling on Amazon, and I'm still among the pastors with Phoenix Community of Atlanta. I now have the opportunity this fall to teach part-time at a local Christian fine arts school, known as Dacula Classical Academy.
God is good, blessing me with work as my health returns, and I'm learning to savor the now, and not fret over the next. I'm thankful and I'm blessed, more than I deserve.

Life Changes

Much has transpired in my life since I last posted to this blog. The physical problems of January and February (spiking blood pressure, anxiety attacks, hyperthyroid problems, etc.) were only warning bells to a greater condition, discovered the first week of March- bladder cancer.
As I wrote in my other blog, a 2" malignant tumor was discovered in my bladder. It was safely and completely removed, pathology reports later confirmed no trace of it remained, and yet I am in the midst of a six-week preventative chemotherapy treatment to reduce the chances of any return. It has been the ride of my life, no doubt- a ride I'd have rather not taken, but found myself on anyway. God has been good to me though, as I am aware it could have been so much worse. It could have spread, could have been a more aggressive strain, could have been another, more deadly type altogether. I am thankful, in the midst of it all.
I have found myself, on days when I am able to take a motorcycle ride, much more aware of the small blessings all around me- the smell of spring flowers as I pass them roadside, the feel of slight temperature changes in and out of shade, the sounds of birds singing, the warmth of the sun on my face or neck, the feel of the wind in my face, and the people I get to meet wherever I find myself. Life is precious, sweet, and worth savoring each moment of.
God has been, and continues to be, very good to me. Whatever lies ahead, wherever the road leads, I know Who guides me, Who has me, and I will trust and not be afraid. Psalm 23