Speeding to My Own Destruction On a Motorcycle

Speeding to My Own Destruction On a Motorcycle

As I went further west, I left behind the flatlands of South Dakota. Small hills began to appear, first one and then another. Eventually I found myself in the state of Wyoming. While I was in Wyoming I visited the Yellowstone National Park. After I had spent some time at Yellowstone National Park I headed west again. I was now entering the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. As I traveled I would simply find a secluded spot to camp for the night. As I came into a small logging town one day, I pulled in to a small mom and pop combination grocery store and gas station. I still remember taking my good old time filling the gas tank with gas. At the same time I was enjoying the fresh country air, and the beautiful scenery of the mountains around me. After I drank a small 12 oz. cup of coffee, and ate a $.75 hotdog, I climbed back on board my motorcycle.

I have always enjoyed riding bikes. One of the very first bikes I had ever owned was an old antique white 305 Honda dream. I had saved up to buy it with a newspaper route, and working at a strawberry plantation, plus working at local dairy farms. This bike was in beautiful condition for its age. I still remembered with regret how one of my friends begged me to let him take my 305 dream for a ride. He took it for a ride all right, right in to a concrete pillar of a bridge. Larry had overestimated his own ability of being able to go around a corner at a high rate of speed. Larry seeing that he was not going to be able to keep the bike on the road, and that he was going to hit the bridge, leaped off the bike just in time. Larry had survived the accident, but my bike had not. That was many bikes a go.

As I was winding my way through some low-lying mountains, I caught the sound of several high-powered ninja style motorbikes coming up from behind me. In a very short period of time these motorcyclist had caught up to where I was. They passed me on my right side, with their engines screaming as they sped past. One after another they shot by me on my right-hand side. There were at least five of these ninjas hot dogging it down the road. It was obvious that they were racing one another.

The bikes they were riding were all foreign made, low to the ground, high r.p.m., superbikes. These were lean and mean speed machines, designed for racing and taking sharp curves. As they passed me, I could almost feel them challenging me to keep up with them. At that very moment, I was faced with a very crucial decision. I could give into their challenge and go for it or I could choose to obey the laws of the land, submit to the will of God, resist the devil, and the enemy would have to flee from me.

I’m sorry to say that I gave in to my fleshly desire to go with the crowd. I opened up the throttle of my 750 Honda. It responded with the thrust of a rocket taking off. Now the motorcycle that I was riding was not made for racing but it definitely not a pushover, or kid’s plaything. There was a lot of power pumping out of its four cylinders. The only problem was that it was not specifically designed to take the corners like the bikes that I was trying to keep up with.

The heavy-duty crash bars that I had put on my bike, front and back, had save my life in the last accident. Just about a month before I had flipped it over on its side on the highway, when I had hit a patch of black ice. But now in this situation, these crash bars were an extreme detriment. The crash bars were preventing me from being able to lean into the sharp Corners like I needed to. Normally I would have not been so stupid, but it was as if I had been taken over by demons. The need for speed, and to keep up with these guys was overwhelming. As I gunned my bike to keep up with the other motorcyclist, I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

I breathed in the familiar overwhelming desire for speed. It was at times like this that it felt almost as if demons had taken me over, and were whispering in my ears. I Could almost hear them whispering saying: go faster, faster, faster. I had experienced this before when I had been driving my automobiles or my motorcycle. Driving like a total madman down the country roads of Wisconsin. It was nothing but a miracle that I had never crashed and died. Close friends of mine had not been so blessed in escaping their tomfoolery. One of my friends hit a tree, and he was so mangled that it they had to have a closed casket funeral. Now here I was again possessed with the need for speed, but now I was saved. Yet even though I was saved this same feeling, desire, compulsion, overwhelming thirst for speed and competition overtook me.

I was barely able to keep up with these motorcyclists. Mile after mile after hair raising frightening mile I raced after these bikers. With my heart in my throat over and over, I continued to speed up, slowdown and suddenly hit my breaks as I came into the corners. As I leaned into these corners, my crash bars would be scraping on the asphalt, front and back. Literally sparks were flying from my crash bars. But I just would not back off.

The pressure on me to continue to drive like this was overwhelming, frightening, and heart stopping. My whole body was drenched with sweat. I knew in my heart that it was insanity to be driving in this fashion. Especially since this bike was not designed for this kind of driving. Over and over I found myself constantly scraping my crash bars on the asphalt as I went around the sharp corners. Sparks were flying everywhere as the crash bars were coming into contact with the surface of the road.

At times, I was barely able to keep the other riders in my sights. Whoever they were, they were extremely good at what they were doing. Maybe they were Olympian bike riders who were practicing for the Olympics? In 1976, the Summer Olympics were going to be held in Montréal, Canada. They were also going to be having Motorcycle racing. I know this sounds crazy, but I really do wonder if these motorcyclists had something to do with that. These guys were really good and just were not backing off of their speeding or their racing. I could not understand how they could keep up at the speeds they were hitting. Instead of them slowing up, they seemed to be increasing their speed at every opportunity.

I continued to follow them, mile after mile. Now you might be saying: No Way! Yes-way! My nerves were fried and I was getting very tired and wearied from all of the exertion it was taking for me to keep up with these guys. I knew in my heart that I had lost the edge, I was not responding like I should. Over and over I barely escaped from having a bad accident. These guys where incredible, knowing exactly when to speed up and slowdown.

Red lights kept going off inside of my heart, and mind. These warnings were so real to me that it was as if I could hear the invisible angelic forces of God yelling at me to stop this Insein pursuit. Just retelling this event reminds me of another event that I experienced about five years later.

Gods Audible Voice Said TO Me: YOU’RE A DEAD MAN! (1981)

At the telling of the story I was a pastor at three Springs Assembly of God. I was driving into Mount Union, Pennsylvania with my wife to do some grocery shopping. The vehicle that I was driving was a sport Ford Granada with a 302 Engine. The urge came to me to put the pedal to the metal and let it roar. The Lord had already delivered me from speeding years ago, but at that moment it was as if a devil took hold of me. I willingly gave in to this urge as I mashed down the gas pedal and began to increase my speed. Yes, I knew better, but I caved and gave into temptation. My wife looked over at me just shaking her head. (Someone else was watching our newborn son Michael so he was not with us.)

I ended up accelerating to over 80 miles per hour. Kathleen was praying aloud that if we had an accident, she would not be hurt because of my stupidity, and then she began to pray faster in the spirit. I was coming around the corner on Route 747 right before you enter into Mount Union when I heard the audible voice of God say to me, "You are a Dead Man!" Instantly the fear of the Lord hit me like a sledgehammer.

The fear of God went right to the very marrow of my bones. I saw a stop sign ahead of me to the left and to the right. At that very moment, I slammed on the brakes of my car, instantly slowing down. A flash of white zipped past my left. I mean right at once I saw a totally white, souped-up Dodge charger come speeding through the stop sign from the left. He ran the stop sign without stopping or slowing up in the least. I mean he really had the pedal to the metal. I’m convinced he must’ve been going over 80 miles an hour. If I would not have slammed on my brakes exactly when I heard the audible voice of God, his car would have slammed right into my driver's side door. There is no doubt in my mind or my heart that I would have been instantly killed. Thank God for his long-suffering and mercy.

Back to my Insane Bike Riding

Something evil and obsessive had gripped my mind, and my emotions. Even though I knew that I was going to crash my bike and get myself killed I could not seem to stop myself. These voices that were urging me on to go faster and faster, were not only telling me to keep up with these men, but where telling me that I should pass them at the first opportunity. Slowly but surely, they were leaving me behind.

Then as I entered into a long stretch of road I saw my opportunity to make my move. I began to catch up to them as I saw these riders begin to enter between two cliffs, one on the left side and one on the right. They seemed to slow up considerably right before they exited from these cliffs. It was time for me to make my move. I shifted my bike into high gear, opened my throttle all the way. My 750 took off like a speeding bullet. Now I was coming up to them very rapidly, when before I knew what happened, they completely disappeared from my sight. Inside of me all kinds of alarm bells were going off. Voices were in my heart screaming almost in a panicking audible voice. Over and over these voices were telling me to stop this very minute. They were telling me To Not Just Slow up, but to Stop! At the same time other almost sinister voices were screaming to me don’t stop, but speed up. You are about to catch up to them.

At that very moment, right before I had reached the end of these two high cliffs, I decided in my heart that I had had enough. It is like all the wind was taken right out of me. My stomach was all twisted, and my heart was hurting. Without giving it a second thought I completely let up on the throttle of my bike. At the same time, I began to squeeze hard upon my breaks.

The bike responded immediately as I came to the end of these cliffs. The moment I came out from these cliffs it became very obvious to me why the other motorcyclist had slowed up so drastically, and then disappeared. The road in front of me disappeared into a 90 degree hairpin curve to the left. As I took the curve even at my slow speed, I was barely able, ever so scarcely to lean into it. Now, that was very frightening by itself alone. But what was really terrifying and heart wrenching frightening is what I saw just to the right of the road.

For there was nothing but empty air just three feet over the edge of the road. There was no railings on this particular curve, just gravel and stones before a terrifying cliff. One of the highest cliffs that I had ever seen on my journey so far was right in front of me. It must have fallen away to the valley thousands of feet below, with a large rushing river at the bottom. The sight of how high up I was into the mountains, and the cliff that was before me took away my breath. If I would have taken the curve just five miles faster I would have never been able to make it. I knew in my heart that I would have gone right over the edge of the cliff, down to the river far below, never to be seen again this side of eternity.

The road that I was on continue to run alongside of this cliff on the left. It was sometime before I was able to finally find a small resting spot where I could stop my bike.

I brought my motorcycle to a complete stop, and I slowly crawled off of my bike. My legs were shaking like Jell-O. My breathing was very heavy and yet shallow. I felt like I was going to pass out at any moment.

After I had leaned my bike over on its kickstand. I fell to my knees right there in the gravel, not caring if anybody saw me. I lifted my hands towards heaven, repenting for letting the demonic powers influence me to be so stupid. Crying out for God’s forgiveness and help in the midst of my stupidity. And yet at the same time I was overcome with the reality of God’s long-suffering and Mercy.