Thunder Road

(To be read as though you're reading a cheap detective paperback novel. Think of Joe Friday.)

Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday morning I found myself "riding dirty." 

While in Wichita for my high school reunion I checked Craigslist and found a Chevrolet SSR at a good price so I called my friend Randy. He's an auto broker and had been interested in an SSR. He called the seller and made a deal and I agreed to finish the transaction and drive the car back to Denver.

Problem? No tag. No temporary tag. I'd have to drive over 500 miles without benefit of legal cover.  I'd be riding dirty.

Now I've driven a car before without a tag. You know, something that I bought and drove a few blocks or even across town, but this...this was big. This was 500 miles with no cover.

I worked on my alibi. I had it all down pat. They could throw me in the hole. They could use the rubber hose on me but I would not change my story.

Here was my response: "Whaaaat? You mean it's wrong? I wish someone would have told me. I had no idea it was against the law to drive a car without a license tag."

Yeah, that's what I planned to say.

I was reminded of an old black and white movie starring Robert Mitchum. It was called Thunder Road and it detailed guys in the 50's who ran bootleg whiskey in hopped up cars.

I envisioned myself as one of them as I drove that purple hot rod across I-70 on a cloudless autumn day.

The strains of the movie soundtrack ran through my mind. I tinkered with the words...

"Let me tell the story. I can tell it all
About the mountain boy who ran illegal in the fall

Randy did the dealin. Tim, he drove the load
And when his engine roared they called the highway Thunder Road."

This run would be the holy grail of driving without a tag.

Leaving Wichita late on Tuesday afternoon I found myself on sensory overload. I was inspecting every car for signs of the Law. I knew if they were coming toward me I'd be okay but I couldn't let some cagey patrolman approach on my rear flank.

I had some cover. Jane was driving our car and I positioned her behind me with specific instructions. "Don't let anyone get between you and me." She didn't. One other thing I did was to put a dealer's advertisement on the rear bumper where the tag should go. I hoped the Law would think it indicated a car out on a test drive. I also counted on the tinted windows being dark enough to make the Law assume there was a temporary paper tag stuck in the back window.

We pulled in to Hays, Kansas, and decided to spend the night. Hiding the car out of sight I slept fitfully, wondering if the SWAT team had been sent to find us yet. If so, they failed.

Wednesday morning we loaded into the two vehicles, filled up with fuel and hit the highway. Early.  While the cops were still in the donut shops.

For the next 300 miles cops were everywhere. My palms grew sweaty as I gripped the wheel tighter every time I saw another patrol car. I spotted nine. that's right. NINE. And I dodged everyone.

And then, just when I thought I was home free I spotted a patrol car coming up behind Jane. I got on the phone and called her, "Keep as close to me as you can." And he stayed on her bumper. We were on a two lane and for 20 miles he rode her bumper. I kept praying that he'd turn off. He didn't. Then we came to one of those passing areas. I moved far to the right. Jane stayed on my bumper. The patrolman pulled out to pass. I'd be vulnerable, uncovered, naked. No tag. Would the jig be up?

No!!! He pulled around Jane and with my heart pounding he passed me. Whew! That was close. Adrenaline surged through my body. I never felt so alive! Just 20 more miles and I delivered the car.

"And there was thunder, thunder, over Thunder Road
Thunder was his engine and a hot rod was his load.

And there was moonshine, moonshine to quench the devil's thirst
The law they swore they'd get him but McDonalds got him first."

Boys Of Summer

 

If you've read this blog at all you know that for the past year Jane and I have been serving at the Aurora Church of the Nazarene in Seattle as Interim Pastor. Well, that wonderful assignement ended this past Sunday. It was one of those "parting is such sweet sorrow" moments for us. The people had just totally accepted us as though we were their permanent pastor. Following the service Sunday morning they presented us with wonderful gifts and the Board said many nice things before they received a INCREDIBLE love offering for us as a parting gift. A luncheon followed. We could hardly eat for talking to people and saying our goodbyes. What totally awesome memories we will cherish from our days there.

On our way to the airport I drove over to West Seattle with Jane and Staci and baby Marian. We had a little time before our plane was to take off and we wanted to just drive around and enjoy the beauty that is Seattle and the Great Northwest.

This is where the story gets complicated. You see, Staci's sister-in-law is getting married this coming weekend. So, she and Josh and all the kids are coming to Denver for the celebration. Well, knowing that I decided to bring the two boys home with me on the plane a week ago and let them spend time with Jane and me at the cabin. What an adventure that turned out to be....all good I might add.

At the Seattle airport a week ago Sunday I got out of the car and the two boys started getting out of their car seats. And then there was the first hint of tears. Daniel started to sniffle, then whimper, then cry. Little John could have cared less. He was going to ride on the big airplane. Daniel...not so much. However, by the time the goodbyes were said and I got them to the security line he was fine. We got on the plane, row 3, and the thing took off. Soon the flight attendants were passing soft drinks down the aisle and I chose that moment to get out the surprise I had for each boy. (Did I mention they are 4 and 2?) I had a baggie for each with M&M's and a couple of Matchbox cars. Well, things were getting interesting now. It was like, "Grandpa, why didn't you tell us you had surprises?" Daniel turned to me and said, "Grandpa, I don't miss my mommy anymore." I'm sure that thrilled her.  Another 30 minutes and Frontier Airlines was passing out the warm chocolate chip cookies and life couldn't get any better.

We landed at DIA about 6:30 p.m. with Aunt Jamie and grandma there to meet us and the fun was ready to begin.

On Monday we loaded the boys into our car and drove to the cabin. They were barely out of the car before shoes were being kicked off and they were headed for the stream. Try to remember what it felt like to be young and energetic and to have a yard with a stream flowing through it. Not a raging river, just a little brook that was shallow enough for you to play in all day long without a lot of supervision. They were in heaven. The tire swing was moving gently in the breeze and grandma was soon in the house preparing some lunch.



Government workers

The next day we discovered that the county was repaving the road in front of our house. How exciting! Is there anything more wonderful for small boys than big trucks? We had to stop everything and head to the road to watch.

"Hold the lunch, there's a big truck up there."



Each night they headed up to the loft to sleep in the king sized bed and they went to sleep immediately after grandma finished reading the story. No crying, no whimpering. They were EXHAUSTED. They had run barefoot through the grass and the stream all day long. They had "washed" their car and driven it up and down the drive. They had ridden tricycles and built forts and carried sand from the creek into the house.

Well, on Saturday, with them safely in the care of the other grandma (Kathy Zaker) Jane and I left for Seattle for our final Sunday there. That's when all the kindness was expressed to us.

Then we drove to West Seattle and to the airport, but this time with Staci and with baby Marian Jane. Again we sat on row 3 and our only granddaughter (four grandsons) slept like....well, like a baby, all the way to Denver.

Now all of our family is back in Colorado except for one. Josh, a Major in the Air Force, flies in Thursday. And to make things even more exciting my brother and his wife are riding their Harley in on Friday morning for the long weekend.

So, Sunday night (the wedding that I mentioned is on Saturday afternoon) we plan to have both daughters, both sons-in-law, all five grandchildren plus my brother and his wife PLUS my cousin Scott and his wife sitting on our patio for a casual dinner.

What fun!


Nothing better than being a grandpa. "Papa, can I have pop?"



Earl Pike

Had a great visit with my friend Reverend Earl Pike recently. Some of you know that Earl is the pastor out on the eastern plains of Colorado in Punkin Center. He's a great guy who seems to have his act together, at least in his own mind he does. He just seems to see things a bit differently than most folks.  As we visited I made mental note of some of the things he said. Only Earl...

"I put my pants on one day at a time just like the next man."

"These days, half the things in my shopping cart say, "For Fast Relief."

"So little to say, so much time to say it."

"Where there's a will, there's a greedy relative."

"When I was a kid we were so poor that my parents took us to KFC to lick other people's fingers."

"I noticed my gums were shrinking and then I realized that I had been brushing my teeth with Preparation H."

"My mind is going a mile an hour."

Walking In My Dad's Shadow

Several years ago I sent my mom some money for her birthday. She poked it down in a corner of her purse and let it age for a while. Then one day while out with my dad she spotted the remains of an old buggy. Almost a buckboard yet a bit larger. Probably something like a doctor's buggy but without the canvas top. It was in sad condition but she knew that my dad could put it back together. And he did. He saved as much of the original wood as he could and then made patterns off the pieces he couldn't save and before long they had a nice little black buggy sitting in the front yard at their little farm. The wheels on it were not original. None came with mom's purchase, but dad found some metal wheels that he took off some farm impliments and so it looked pretty cute.

Well, in August of 2009 my dad passed away. It was tramatic for all of us because my dad, in his quiet way, had been the head of our family. He was the leader. He was the one we called when we faced a problem because he seemed to have the answer even if it was just to listen to us.  When we went back for the auction at the old home place I asked if I could have the buggy. Mom said yes, since she was moving into a senior adult duplex where she couldn't have yard art.

I loaded it on my motorcycle trailer and towed it to Colorado where we parked it in the yard and Jane immediately loaded it down with geraniums. For two years it sat there through rain, snow, sleet, hail and hot mountain sun. The grandkids climbed on it and pictures were taken with people sitting in it.

When we came home from Seattle one of the first things I noticed was the old buggy in the yard. It had seen better days. The seat had collapsed and the box was ready for someone to step right through. I decided that it had to be one of my summer projects.

Two weeks ago I drove to Home Depot with measurements in hand, purchased wood and screws and paint and hurried back up the mountain to begin the process.

But as I started dismanteling the buggy I realized that I was handling the wood that my dad had last repaired. I was trying to rebuild something that he had rebuilt years before.  I carefully took it apart and just as my father had, I saved the pieces for patterns. I drew them with care because I wanted it to be like my dad's. It's funny how, in moments like that, I find myself talking to my dad and wondering what he would think. "Am I doing this right?"

In a matter of about 4 hours I had the thing put back together and ready for paint. By the next afternoon it was back in the yard and Jane was out looking for flowers to put in it. This weekend two of our grandsons will be here and I can guarantee that they will be climbing into that buggy and sometime during the hours that they are here, pictures will be taken.

But I realize that, not only did I take patterns off my dad's buggy, but I've used him as a pattern all of my life. He was such a good man and his values were so clear. He wasn't a baron of industry or an executive in some Fortune 500 company. He was a simple man who repaired boxcars for the Santa Fe Railroad for 43 years. But his life was worthy of emulating. He was my dad and working on the buggy reminded me again of my rich heritage through he and my mom.

Colorado Summer

Jane and I have been back in Colorado since May 4th. After 9 months in Seattle it was nice to find our way back to our own home. You know, there's just something about being around your own "stuff." We totally enjoyed out time living in Seattle and we love the people at the Aurora church but coming home is a wonderful feeling. I still fly to Seattle on Saturdays to preach on Sunday and then I fly home Sunday afternoon. It's a nice way to spend the weekend.

After coming home I started scheduling my little projects. I've got one specific project each week plus the little things that have to be done just to keep the home place up.

Two weeks ago I was mowing the yards (mine, the next door place and the place next to it, plus the lot across the stream). As I started to ride the little John Deere back across the bridge I hit it a bit hard and the crazy thing flipped right over backwards on top of me. Luckily, I'm bigger than the mower but it still left some bruises. I had shut off the blade and naturally the thing stopped running when it flipped. After it landed on me I pushed of off to the side, got up and set the mower up on it's wheels and then hit the switch. It started and I finished mowing. That was on Tuesday. On Thursday we looked out the back windows to see a large bear strolling down toward the stream. He stepped in, took a drink and then just layed down in the water. I stepped out to grap a picture and the minute he saw me he got up and took off.

And then while looking at the internet I discovered a little Model A Pickup for sale. I contacted the owner and went to see the vehicle. He told me he was wanting to build a Rat Rod and didn't want to cut up the Model A. I had a great idea. "Would you like to take a 35 Ford truck in on trade? It would be a great candidate for a Rat Rod." I went home that night and sent him pictures. He accepted my offer.

Now I had to get a trailer, load the 35 and drive it almost 100 miles, unload the truck with his help and then load the Model A.

On Wednesday we loaded the 35 on the trailer. How, you ask? With the use of a Come-a-long. That's a cable that's attached to a rachet and for a fat guy to keep pumping that rachet until the truck was on the trailer was quite a feat. Oh, and before I even started that I was pulling the 35 with the John Deere while Jane sat in the cab on a paint bucket to steer. here's the thing. The 35 had no brakes. Once I got it to rolling she couldn't stop it. I looked over my shoulder just as she hit the back of the mower and started pushing me sideways. I thought I was going to go over once again, but I knew that if I did it now I'd get run over. The truck finally stopped rolling after she pinned me between her truck and the trailer.

Thursday we got up early and headed to north east Denver to pick up the Model A. It was a great expereince. You see, the first car I ever had was a 1931 Model A Coupe. I started building it when I was 15. It was a father/son project. My dad knew all about Model A's. I found the frame on a flat bed trailer that my uncle Wayne owned. I went and asked him if I could buy it from him and he was kind enough to give it to me. We found the coupe body and fenders for $35 dollars and a rebuilt Model A engine for $20 bucks. (Remember, this was 1963). Dad and I spent hours working together on that little coupe. My last few days as a sophomore in High School, I drove that car to school.

This little truck reminds me of my dad and the time he spent with me all those years ago. As I was pulling the batter out of it today I was wishing my dad could be here with me. I wish I had paid more attention when we were building the first one.

Well, the Model A is  a project, but not the same as the other specific projects I have for the summer. It's a project that will take some time. I may never get it finished. My Son-In-Law Josh, says that my car projects are just vehicles that I pull or drag home in order to watch the air escape from the tires. I guess we'll see. Anyway, I have a summer full of jobs and a mind full of dreams.

I love summer in Colorado.

My Marian Jane

Oh....have I mentioned that Jane and I have a GRANDDAUGHTER? Yep. She was born on January 3rd and her name is Marian Jane Zaker. What a sweet heart. After four grandsons it's pretty sweet to have a little girl in the mix.

She turned four months old on Tuesday and she's a keeper. All four of our grandsons are live wires and I'm sure she will be too, but right now she's just the sweetest little girl. She's easy to take care of. She doesn't cry very much (and her two brothers sure give her reason). She loves to lie in her grandpa's big fat arm where she cuddles in and sleeps when she's not smiling at me and making sure that I'm aware that she's the only girl and that her brothers are hellions. 

It's also fun to watch the boys as they relate to her. They like to get as close to her face as they can with their faces. They like to kiss her and touch her. They seem to be a bit unsure of what this all means.  And daddy Josh....well, he's already wrapped. There will be no spankings for this little angel, though her brothers spend an inordinate amount of time in the "time out" spot on the bottom stair.

Do you know how good God is? Well, let me tell you about a serendipity in our lives. Staci and Josh live in Lacey, Washington and have for two years. This past September a wonderful church in Shoreline, Washington (65 miles from Lacey) asked Jane and me to come and serve as their Interim Pastor. We were able to be with Staci's family the last four months of her pregnancy. We were able to be there for the birth of little Marian Jane. We've had the wonderful joy of being with her as she grew these past four months. I got to dedicate her at the Aurora church. They were with us for Easter Sunday.

What fun.

As the father of two girls I must admit that I've had a ball entertaining four grandsons and teaching them things that mom and dad won't. Showing them how to throw water balloon, introducing them to fireworks and how to ride a wagon down the hill in front of our cabin and build a dam in the stream.

But I was missing the little girl in our lives. The pink. The frilly clothing. The curly hair. The little dolls and the tea sets.

But I'm also looking forward to teaching her some things that I taught her mom, like how to walk on stilts and how to set up a lemonade stand and pay tithe on the profits.

Marian Jane Zaker. My youngest grandchild and my little girlfriend.

Randy Edwards

This past Saturday a memorial service was held for one of the most unusual men I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Randy Edwards.

Randy entered my life after I had been serving as pastor at Denver First Church for about 6 months. The youth pastor had resigned shortly after I arrived and we had spent several months searching for his replacement. Randy was one of the candidates, but Randy didn't fit the mold. You know what I'm talking about, I'm sure. A youth pastor is supposed to be fresh out of seminary....or at least college. A youth pastor should be "cool" and "hip." He's supposed to be up on the latest rap music and reading the latest youth magazines. Randy, it would appear, was none of the above. Like me, he was overweight. His hair was thinning before shaved heads were in vogue. He was "old." I mean, he was close to my age. There was no way I was going to hire Randy.

But time passed and other candidates didn't seem to fit and Randy was there. He had been a member of Denver First Church all his life. He had grown up in the youth group there under the leadership of Roger Clay. Roger was promoting Randy for the job. Gregg Moran was promoting Randy. Derrell and Buzz and Colleen and Lester all seemed to be on his side as well and they were the youth sponsors.

At the next meeting of the Board I presented Randy's name for the position. I was shocked when  George Turner said, "Pastor, you don't bring staff hires to us for permission. Hiring and firing is your responsibility." Well, alright then. I guess Randy is the guy. I called him after the meeting to set up breakfast the next morning.

We met at La Peep's. I told Randy about the meeting the night before and that he would want to give his current employer (he was manager at a Wal-Mart) notice. I almost choked on my French toast when he said, "I did that two weeks ago. God told me to. I'm ready to go to work as soon as breakfast is over." Wow! That was to be only the first time that I would see him make decisions based on his relationship with God.

Randy lived in a different place spiritually than most people I've met. A different place than I've lived most of my life. There was an intimacy between he and God. I'm INCREDIBLY skeptical when someone says "God told me." I call that phrase the trump card. It's too often meant to silence discussion. That was not true with Randy.

Now don't misunderstand. Don't get the wrong idea. Don't assume that Randy was some old guy who lived in some ivory tower. A guy so heavenly minded that he was no earthly good. In fact, the opposite is true. Randy was so down to earth, so caring, so giving and filled with humor. He loved to laugh and did so often. His laugh would ring through the halls of the offices. He loved a good time....and the kids LOVED him. They adored him. They would have followed him off a cliff. When he assumed the role of Senior High Youth Pastor we were running about 40 kids in that department. Within months we were seeing 125. A fabulous youth choir was started that toured the country. While on those trips they witnessed miracles that they would never have seen apart from Randy and his faith. He taught them that nothing is impossible with God. And they believed him. His catch phrase was "Remember who you belong to." And they did. They still do.

Our youngest daugher, Jamie, was 15 when Randy became her youth pastor. We had been in Denver only months and she was struggling with the move. That first summer she accompanied the youth group on their mission trip to Tacate, Mexico and she grew homesick. Randy reminded her of her dad....at least physically. It was to Randy that she went when homesick on that trip. She cried. He held her like a father and comforted my little girl. He taught her well. He imparted the truth of the gospel to her.

My mind runs deep with memories of a guy who lived life to the fullest. Enjoyed life, family, his church and especially his family. He knew joy and heartache and he died the way he lived. With incredible courage and DEEP faith.

Godspeed Randy. I owe you, brother.