The World On Two Wheels

The other day I stopped in at a local Harley Davidson motorcycle dealership, as I will do on occasion.

And what to my wondering eyes should appear?
A scooter the size of a tiny reindeer.

Yes. This particular Harley dealership was also a dealership for Vespa scooters.

I guess it is time to diversify. It seems very unlikely that either market will really steal anyone from the other.

One fine day a man walks in to the showroom of his local Harley dealer. His heart is set on a Road King Classic or maybe even an Electra Glide. He swings his leg over one of the beasts and grabs the handlebars imagining the wind in his face as he rolls through the gears and feels the throaty growl of the engine beneath him. In his mind, he’s flying down the highway, carefree and… but then it happens. Out of the corner of his eye he catches a glimpse of that unmistakable powder blue color. As if mesmerized, he finds himself walking across the showroom floor to that collection of scooters all parked in a neat little row. Could they be? …Are they really?... Yes, they’re Vespas. Cue the angelic choir. There is a blur of signing some papers, then, before he knows it, he is purring down the street and pulling in to his driveway.

The garage door goes up and he pulls his new machine in to rest at the very spot he has reserved for months… waiting for this day.

Tomorrow he goes for his tattoo.

I'm Shocked

So, I spent most of Monday at the hospital with my brother.

He had a defibrillator implanted in his chest.

I kept trying to get a photo of the device, but the doctors and technicians wouldn’t let me in the operating room, even though I was emphatically declaring my desire and ability to assist.

Relegated to the waiting room, I devised a new strategy. I would have to get my photo after he came out into recovery. It seems they are pretty protective of their own x-ray machines, so I had to smuggle in one of my own. Fortunately, I still had mine in the back of the pickup. After a bit of a struggle getting it up the back stairway, I managed to distract the staff long enough to snap the shot I wanted.

That electronic gizmo you see buried in the left shoulder is about the size of a pocket watch and has wires running through a vein right to the heart.

If his heart experiences a problem, such as beating like crazy on the bottom half (I’m pretty sure that was the technical explanation), then this implanted defibrillator will send an electric shock to his heart. This makes the heart realize it is behaving badly and immediately corrects its behavior. Come to think of it, that’s what my dog’s shock collar does too.

Anyway, as I understand it, this thing is basically the same as those paddles you see on medical dramas that cause people to yell, “CLEAR” whenever they are about to apply them to someone’s chest. I read the whole user’s manual for Larry’s new device. I don’t think he has to yell, “CLEAR”.

It’s good to see Larry back at work and starting to enjoy more of his usual activities. He has decided to set some new goals for himself. His main goal, for now, is to see what it takes to actually set this thing off.

I guess it’s ok if it never does anything. He kept the receipt.

The 1895 Hildebrand & Wolfmüller

Sometime this year a machine that was first called a “motorcycle” will be up for auction.

I am fascinated that back in 1894, these guys were figuring out how to make all of these intricate parts and components work together to propel a person on a vehicle.

On this particular model, the pushrods from the engine are connected directly to the rear wheel, which also acts as the flywheel. You can imagine this principle in action if you think of an old steam locomotive.

Most early motorcycles were single cylinder engines, but this H & W utilized a twin cylinder model.

I admire the craftsmanship and innovation.

I Love You, Man

Rock and roll is the devil’s music.

This was an all too familiar refrain as I was a teenager navigating through the folk music scene.

Music has certainly served as a line of demarcation, if not an outright battle zone for generations.

An issue as volatile and controversial as musical styles will inevitably thrust itself into the Christian arena.

Since I became a Christian while a teenager, I saw these worlds collide as a part of my personal experience. I didn’t help matters that I was riding the coattails of the hippie generation, thereby considering not only my right, but practically an obligation to have long hair and ripped jeans. In an obvious attempt to avoid making a statement of conformity, we made a statement of non-conforming uniformity. This upset traditional minds, much to our delight. But now, our long haired, worn denim, guitar playing ways were about to clash with a generation that was not quite ready to abandon traditional “church mindedness”, which went far beyond wearing dresses and neckties to church on Sunday morning.

Along with questioning authority in general (“Down with the establishment” was the hippie refrain), everything was being questioned and challenged by the new generation. This included traditional religion and ways of worship. Some of these things probably needed to be challenged. The resulting attempt to press true Christianity into the new mold gave birth to such trendy exhibits as Jesus Christ Superstar and Godspell. In truth, I’m not sure these things were any more liberating in the quest for true Christianity, but rather more like a substitute for the dresses and neckties.

As Christians navigating through society, we do well to stay focused on legitimate truth. As a good friend of mine has said, “Don’t make mountains out of molehills or molehills out of mountains”.

Time tested scriptural truth will transcend generations. There is timelessness to the wisdom of godly people that we should seek out and appreciate regardless of their generation, culture or musical preference.

As for what really is the devil’s music…? I have my own opinion on that.