Hug me and shut up

Today I learned a lesson and I want to tell you about it. It is a lesson I have learned many times before and yet I keep forgetting it. First the story. Then the lesson.

I have not been riding my motorcycle much this spring. There is a very good reason for that. It leaks gasoline. Yes, gas is expensive and I don't like to drip it along the highway as I do my "easy rider" thing. But that is not my greater concern. You see I have this thing about blowing up. The carburetor is dirty or something and so it leaks fuel from the over flow hose. The bike really does not care if it is turned on or turned off. It leaks unless you shut the valve, which kills fuel to the engine. I do not have a difficult time imagining this leaking petroleum dripping on the ultra-hot exhaust and sending me to an early meeting with Jesus.

I did not get called to teach today and so I decided to fix this little problem. I watched a friend do it last year and it did not look too terribly difficult. I took my digital camera outside and took pictures as I disassembled the bike step by step. I removed the back seat. I removed the front seat. I was so proud. Tools were e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e! I removed the gas tank and drained it in a very legal and responsible manner.

Now it was serious carb repair time. I took pictures of every hose and where it was connected. Every screw and where it came out. I took twenty-seven pictures. That way, if I got lost while reassembling the bike the pictures would show me where everything goes.



You have to admit, that was pretty brilliant.



When I got the carburetor off I cleaned it with the finest cleaner and a very stiff toothbrush. I cleaned and I cleaned and I cleaned! I smelled like a real mechanic! People who drove down my street looked at me and I know what they were thinking. They were thinking, "Look at that talented guy working on his motorcycle. Boy, I wish I was like him." When I was finished I had the cleanest carb on the block, nay, the town. Maybe all of Illinois!

And then I reassembled the bike. First the tedious job of putting the fuel stuff back together and reattaching it to the frame. The gas tank. The front seat and the rear seat were next.

TA-DA!

I put fresh gasoline in the tank. I climbed on the bike. I turned the key, revved the throttle and listened in amazement as the engine roared to life. I did it!

I climbed off the bike. She purred like a kitten with a fresh saucer of milk. I backed up to admire my job from a distance. That is when I noticed the gasoline flowing ... not dripping like it was before I "fixed" it ... flowing out of the overflow tubing and onto my driveway.

I killed the ignition. I put my tools away. I hosed off my driveway. I pushed my bike as far to the back of my property as I could get it and left it to sit there and just think about what it had done for a while.

It is still there. It can rust there for all I care.

Well, that is the story. Here is the lesson.

I have no business getting into small (or large) engine repair. I know NOTHING about engines. In high school I took "shop" and had to tear down and rebuild a lawn mower engine. We had a shortage of engines and so we did it with a partner. Your grade was based on how well the engine ran when you were done. I was sick the last day of class ... the day my partner finished our project. Seems he had some left over bolts and so he did what any good mechanic would do. He put them in the cylinder. Yes, the cylinder. The next day school was over and grades were sent out. We got a "B." I've often wondered what happened when the teacher started that lawn mower engine. I hope he's ok. He was not a good-looking guy and a bolt buried between his eyebrows would not do much to improve him. I have worse horror stories about my efforts at REAL engine repair ... like on our big blue van. This weird thing that I had never heard of (a "harmonic" something-or-other) fell off of it at my mother-in-law's house. Boom. It just fell off. Not good. She lives in Milwaukee and we don't. I needed to get home. This thing that I can't remember the name of holds the big belt in place that makes the things on the engine work which, in turn, makes the wheels go round and round. And it just fell out on her driveway as we were leaving for our four hundred mile drive home. I did what any good dad/husband/mechanic would do. I went to the hardware store with one of the bolts and asked for six more. Then I climbed under the van, held that piece in place and bolted it back on. Then we drove home with absolutely no problems whatsoever. The next day a friend who really does understand things like engines checked it out for me. I remember him screaming when he slid under the van. It seems that the old bolts had simply broken off inside their little holes. So when I screwed the new bolts in they only went about three threads deep and then were stopped by the old broken and buried pieces. I drove four hundred miles with my family like that. My friend told me that this was impossible and that only angels held those new bolts in and got us home safely.

Hey, if I have to choose between my mechanical abilities and the help of the Heavenly Host ... I'm going with the angels every time.

To repeat, engine repair is not my thing. I am not only bad at it ... I am dangerous. Wickedly dangerous. You know what I do? I do people. The local quick mart/gas station calls me their chaplain. Hmmm. I'll bet I'm the only one of those in the world. I like to talk to people. Anybody will do. My family hates me for that. So do the people behind me in the fast food drive through. Their burgers are chillen while I'm making friends with the dude or dudette taking my cash.

Again, I'm good with this. You know why? Because life is about relationships. Did you get that? It's important so write it down. "Life is about RELATIONSHIPS." Life is not about engine repair (though I thank God for those who can do this incredible feat and my hat is off to them!) But I suspect that God is never going to ask me how many engines I repaired. No, He will probably ask me how I treated people. Not only that but when one of my engines die I just get a new one. Sure I spit and cuss first. But eventually I give in and replace it. It's a thing. Life is not about things. It's about people. Relationships.

So here's what I want to leave you with tonight. How are your relationships? No, not with the guy at the fast food counter or the bank teller. That's important but I'm talking about your relationships with the people in your life that matter to you. Your family. Your friends. The one's you call when you need stabilizing. The one's you hang out with when you get to choose. Are you loving on them? Are you letting them know just how valuable they are to you? Or are you damaging those relationships with your less than perfect patience or your irritability at the end of a long day at work? Life has cost me a lot of friends over the past few years. You know what? I still love 'em. I can't help it. I do not see them anymore but I love them. I lost some friends over decisions that mattered. Important things. But not things that should destroy friendships. Not things that should damage ... much less end ... relationships. Because they are what life is about.

And life is short. And precious. And not to be taken for granted or trifled with. I can go the rest of my life without riding a motorcycle again. But without you ... I can't make it. So you be patient with me when I'm annoying and I'll be patient with you when you are annoying (oh yes you are) and we'll be fine.

Now hug me and shut up.