The Motorcycle Ride Of My Life

By Tony Taylor

The man who saw it has given testimony, and his testimony is true. He knows that he tells the truth, and he testifies so that you also may believe.  (John 19:35) NIV

Quite a while back our evening Church service deviated from the norm and seemed to be turning into a real, old-time Holy Ghost revival with music, singing, and testimonies. Now don’t get me wrong, our Church always has wonderful music and our pastors always preach the Bible. Every 5th Sunday we have singing and testimony during the evening service. I really don’t remember this particular night as being one of those. As I remember it the music from Leon and the Faith Riders Band and the opening prayer really got the Church moving. There was a presence in that service where you could feel the Lord working. Pastor Atkinson said the Lord was moving and to let it continue. Someone was asking others to get up and give testimony and made the comment, “Everyone has a testimony, you all have one, whether you know it or not.” I can’t remember who it was but I’m sure it was either Kid or Leon. I turned to my wife, Diane, and quietly told her, “Not me, I don’t have one.” She just gave me one of those looks, like she does from time to time when I go off into my own little world.

As I said, that was a long time back but for some reason, I’ve been thinking about that night a lot lately, and it led me to the realization that not only do I have a testimony, my entire life has been a testimony.

When I was younger I never thought I’d live to see 30, then as I passed 30, 35, then 40, I still had to always be right on the edge, always wide open. Most of those who knew me pretty much also believed I was living on borrowed time. I used to tell people, “When I go, you’re going to read about it. Not in the obituaries, but on the front page.” I figured that my time on this earth would end in a horrific car or motorcycle crash, maybe during a pursuit while working, or racing, or maybe even heading home, driving or riding like a maniac, or maybe I’d get shot by some crazy I was trying to arrest during an undercover narcotics or firearms deal, or by a mad boyfriend or husband of some woman I happened to be chasing at the time. Now here I am at 62. I still like to go to the edge. Only now I go to the edge and look over instead of jumping off. I look back on those days and know during that time the Lord was protecting me while leading me in a direction that I didn’t understand. I didn’t know where I was being taken, why, for what purpose. Those things are still somewhat hazy to me. I still don’t know where, exactly, this journey is taking me. Maybe this is part of my journey. Maybe this is where I’m being led, to tell you, and others, how I got to where I am today and to help you realize that every now and then you just have to follow along where ever the Lord is leading you. I have dozens of testimonies, or stories, of how God has led me, used me, or just pulled me through trying times when, at the time, I didn’t even know it.

We’ve all heard the saying that, “God works in mysterious ways.” This is just one of the ways he has worked in my life.

You all see me in my vest, tee-shirt, boots, and jeans, this is me. This is who I am today. This is probably who I’ve always been. Motorcycles have taken me in a full circle and brought me to where I am today. I’m not only talking about physically. I’m talking about where I am in my life, at this very moment in time. I know I’m still not where I’m supposed to be, but I am well on my way. So now I’m sure I’ve got you wondering, “How can the Lord use a motorcycle to bring you around?” Well, listen up. It’s no telling what, or who, he is using to bring you home.

I’ve had a love affair with motorcycles since I was about 14 years old and my brother brought home a brand new 1968 BSA 65o Bonneville and taught me how to ride it. I did hundreds of miles just riding around and around the house. I was Michael Parks in Then Came Bronson, heading off to some faraway place and some new adventure. I was Steve McQueen trying to escape from a Nazi prison camp. It seemed to be a new destination, a new adventure, each time I lapped the house. After a short time, my brother lost interest in the bike and sold it. Broke my heart, but I didn’t forget the exhilaration I felt each time I heard that powerful engine come to life, the distinctive click when it was put into gear and the way it pushed you back as you eased onto the throttle. It’s a feeling that a lot of people will never know and some of us can always feel by just closing our eyes and thinking. So how did that bring me here?

As I’ve talked about before, when I was 17 years old a preacher followed my girlfriend and I to the car one night after church and told me, “We don’t need your kind at this Church.” He proceeded to call me a “long-haired, dope smoking, hippie,” although I was dressed in a coat and tie, was neat and clean, with my “long hair” (over the ears and barely touching my collar) clean and combed.

That night I walked away from the church and didn’t look back. Life changed, I changed. Oh, at first everything stayed pretty much the same. I didn’t go back to church and told myself if that’s the way churches are then I didn’t need the hassle. Let’s see how they like it when they’re no longer getting my $3.50 tithes every week. (That was 10% of my weekly salary. You do the math) I could read my Bible and study on my own. Right. We all know how that works out, first you try to read nightly, then it’s every few nights, then occasionally. Eventually, you lay your Bible on the shelf. You may pick it up again, sometimes, and read a little, then you lay it over there and things get placed on it and eventually you not only don’t even think about it, you probably couldn’t find it if you wanted to. After that night at Church, my girlfriend and I started arguing, mainly over my refusal to go to church, any church, but then over anything. That was okay too. I remembered an old love, one that wouldn’t argue with me, one that would be ready, willing, and able, one that would go wherever I wanted, whenever I wanted. She’d always be at my beck and call. So on my next day off I went looking and I found her. A brand new 1971 Honda motorcycle. I couldn’t wait to go show it to my “other love.” As soon as I pulled up she came out of her house and went off on me, mainly about what I could have better spent my money on and how much I had changed in the last few weeks. She absolutely refused to go for a ride just around the block. I left and went by work and showed her off and then just went cruising. Wow! When she talks, it’s music. Well, when I got home I called my girl, or what used to be my girl because as soon as she answered she told me she wouldn’t be seeing me anymore and we should do our best to avoid each other at school and anywhere else. No problem, I had a new woman waiting under the carport. I went out fired her up and off we went. Again she didn’t complain.

I started dressing differently. Black jacket, boots, and jeans. I let the hair get longer. Out of a school of around two thousand students, there were two of us that rode bikes. I became the outlaw, the movie and television persona of what a biker was. I acted tough. I was wild. I learned to really ride. All of a sudden I started being noticed at school. Before I just blended into the crowd. I found a lot of the prim and proper girls who had never even given me a second look were now speaking, even asking for a ride. “Just don’t tell anybody.” To them, I was James Dean, rebel without a cause. To me I was still Tony “Butch” Taylor, rebel without a clue. It didn’t take long for that lifestyle to get old. It’s hard being someone you’re really not. Sure, I liked the little bit of attention, I liked the girls, I liked the idea that people would speak to me that never before knew I existed. What I didn’t like was me. I was lost and floundering. I really didn’t have a clue. I was lonelier than I had ever been. I didn’t know where to turn next. I never once thought about turning back to that Bible sitting on my shelf. I hadn’t been a good student in a while and now I wasn’t doing anything. One day I left school and never went back. I didn’t quit. That would have involved telling everyone bye, signing papers, turning in books, I just left. I guessed that sooner or later they’d figure it out. A couple of days later I was taking entrance exams to join the Navy. The first anyone knew of this is when I told my mom, “I hope you’re not too busy tomorrow.” “Why.” “I need you to take me to Columbia, Fort Jackson, and drop me off. I joined the Navy.” That went over really well, especially since Vietnam was still raging. Again, I hadn’t told anyone about this, not even my closest friends. I just disappeared from Augusta, Ga. Eventually, everyone found out but, this way seemed easier.

During my time in the Navy and all the years after I was never without a motorcycle long. I continued to ride and enjoy the freedom it gave me. I could take off and for a while forget all my troubles, relax, and come back feeling refreshed.

After the Navy, as a detective in Greenwood, I would get up in the morning, put on my coat and tie, clip my gun on my side and my badge to my belt, jump on my bike and take off to work, coat blowing in the wind, gun, and badge just shining. The Chief finally called me in one morning to tell me that he didn’t mind the fact that I rode a bike, but “would I please cover up the gun and badge,” he was getting complaints. Easy enough, a shoulder holster and London Fog coat fixed that. Now that was a cool look.

I eventually moved to Aiken County where I spent a long time as a “deep cover” undercover officer. Only about 4 people in the Sheriff’s Office even knew who I was. The old Johnny Rivers song “Secret Agent Man” pretty much told my story, especially the part of “…giving you a number and taking away your name.” Five twenty-two. That was my call sign and that’s pretty much all anyone knew of who I was. 3×5 cards were even put up at the dispatcher’s consoles advising them that “If 522 calls in, don’t ask questions, just give him what he needs.” Again, I was pretending to be someone I really wasn’t.

I mention that because as a cop, a hundred percent cop, you don’t have a lot of friends. Even the people you were closest to growing up try to avoid you. It ends up the only friends you have are other cops, and you’re really careful about which ones you allow in. As an undercover officer, you don’t even have them to turn to. You can’t trust anyone. No one can know who you are or what you do. I was a loner and preferred it that way. When the undercover side of things was finally over, I kept that mindset and didn’t trust anyone. I was always looking for the worst in people. After I retired I realized I had pretty much shut myself off from the rest of the world outside my immediate family. I didn’t have any real friends.

I had sold my last motorcycle years earlier because of family obligations. After Diane and I bought the truck she began to ride with me and we traveled the country together. Over time she noticed that every time a motorcycle would pass I’d check it out. One day she made the comment, “You’d like to have another one, wouldn’t you?” Well yeah. “If you think we can afford it, see if you can find one.” “Oh, no….you’re gonna allow me to buy one. Let me tell you who wears the pants in this house. If I want a motorcycle, I’ll just tell you…Baby, please…..Can I buy a motorcycle?” Well, I found one. We started riding and joined the Harley Owners Group. Next thing you know we’re riding with them, going to dinners or just hanging out. Life started changing. We were making friends again and enjoying getting out with other people. Next, it was the American Legion and American Legion Riders. From those guys we learned about the Patriot Guard Riders We joined and started attending missions every chance we could.

Are you starting to get the picture? The bike was actually giving us, me in particular, a new life, and new friends who didn’t care what career I had before. Some of the people we were now meeting were veterans, some active-duty military, some were retired or active police officers. Even those who weren’t military or police were good, patriotic, people with old fashioned values. This kept us busy when we weren’t on the road and it was giving me a new focus on life. Police officers are cynical by nature and the job only increases this cynicism as you mostly see only the worst side of people. All of a sudden we were in the midst of people who thought of others first. They were the first to lend a hand when someone was in need. They looked out for each other and the community as a whole.

During this time we were volunteering and riding for charities but felt we still needed something more, something was still missing. Diane’s mom had moved in with us and kept reminding us that without God and Faith in our lives, no matter what we did, it wouldn’t be enough. We did try to go to a few churches. I was still leery of churches and I was probably just looking to find something wrong at each of them but still, I never felt comfortable. I felt as if I was still being “checked out.” Was I dressed right and were my clothes nice enough? Was my car new enough? Again, it was probably me, but I just wasn’t comfortable.

One Friday evening while taking a break in the truck I was checking the internet to see if there were any Patriot Guard Riders missions coming up or anything with the American Legion Riders or the Harley Owners to do over the next few days since I was heading home and would have a few days off. There was nothing so I just started looking for motorcycle events in the Aiken/Augusta area when I tripped across an event that had occurred the previous weekend. It had been a motorcycle rally/revival at Faith Riders Fellowship Church. This got my interest. A motorcycle rally? Combined with a church revival? What kinds of bikers were these? Well, I started looking for more information on this Church and found bits and pieces here and there. I found they had regular church services in Aiken. Hmmm? Interesting. I also found that the music minister was Leon Everette who I had known and followed way, way back when he was an up and coming country musician playing the bars in and around Augusta trying to get a break. I had even gone to a dance hall and bar he owned in Aiken several times. I had kissed my future wife, Diane, for the first time on the dance floor at his club. I called Diane and told her what I had found about the church and asked if she would like to go on Sunday since I would be home.

On Sunday we dressed casually since what I had seen said: “Come as you are.” We headed for the address I had found for them. I guess I should have looked closer at the address because when we pulled in the parking lot it was our old dance hall. Now it’s a church? Just wow! As I looked around and saw all the motorcycles under the awning, and cars in the parking lot I began to have second thoughts. Diane and I just sat in the parking lot awhile talking about it. Neither of us were real sure. I said at the time it was curiosity. Not true. I know there are a lot of you who watch NCIS and see Gibbs smack Dinozzo in the back of the head when he screws up or is about to. That’s what the Lord did to me that morning. He smacked me in the head and told me to get out of that car and get in there! As we got to the front door Leon met us with hugs and handshakes as he welcomed us and told us we were going to love it there. I had seen the Pastor’s name on the sign out front, Jack Atkinson. Before I could finish asking if that was the same person I knew, Leon interrupted with, “Yep, that’s your old boss.” He had been the Chief Deputy at the Aiken County Sheriff’s Office when I was there. I knew he was always a good and Godly man but, I never knew he was a Preacher.

As we walked in with Leon and he began to introduce us there were more hugs, handshakes, and welcomes. Upon entering the Sanctuary I recognized other active and retired Police Officers I worked with over the years. There were also dozens of bikers, some former addicts, or alcoholics sitting there along with people from every walk of life. This place was amazing! I did tell Diane that there were probably several people there I had arrested over the years and I might have to fight my way out of there. If anyone recognized me and carried a grudge they didn’t let on. We were welcomed by everyone. We had a wonderful day with this real-life melting pot of people. We went back that evening and continue going until this day.

Diane rededicated her life to God after only a couple of weeks.  She got baptized and became a member of the church and a very special prayer warrior. It took me considerably longer as I still had questions about my faith and where I was headed. Eventually, the Lord smacked me again and I gave my life back to him. I was baptized and shortly after that I also became a member of the Church. Today Diane and I stand in that same doorway where we were welcomed that first day and we are the ones giving the handshakes and hugs, welcoming both the newcomers and those who have been here since the foundation of the church. We are both considered leaders in the church. I am proud that the Lord saw, in his infinite wisdom, where I needed to be and led me. He knew when the time was right, not me. He gave me the stories to tell and the ability to tell those stories, both in writing and in person. I cannot quote scriptures and verses. I can tell how the Lord has helped me.

I know this has been a rather long article. It should be. It was a long ride from where I was until now. Sure, we still have our trials but, they are so much easier to overcome today. Yes, I still worry, only not as I did before. Today I am still learning to just look to God and ask him to get me through it. He does, only on his time

Now you know how a motorcycle brought me on this long ride. God used what I loved to bring me full circle. He knew that I couldn’t tell my story if I didn’t have one to tell.

You also have stories to tell. The Lord is trying to take you somewhere. Don’t be hardheaded like me. Listen to what he has to say. Find a church. Find a church family. Look if you need to. Don’t be afraid to try new places and new people. Most of all get down on your knees and truly ask God where he wants and needs you.