Musclecars, Friendship, Jesus and Heroin.

My first car, I'll never forget. A 1971 Mercury Comet, Red, Centerline wheels and a

healthy 302. The car introduced me to a whole new world- afternoons, fiddling with carburetors, mostly making them run worse or catch fire. Late nights, changing out transmissions and other torn up parts. It was frustrating, yet fun, learning how to work on the Comet. It was even more enjoyable driving the car when it was up and running well. Man, could that thing do a burnout! My Dad once questioned how I could possibly need a set of new tires, when I just put some on less than a year earlier. Of course, he was 17 once and knew exactly what the deal was. The best thing about owning the car wasnt the working on it, or the driving it, but it was the people I met through the car.

My friend Tim, was one of my best friends, I believe, because we both shared a passion for musclecars. We had alot of other friends, but I think we were closer because of the cars we owned and enjoyed. Everyone should have a friend like him. He was humble, mellow and one of the funniest guys I ever met. He liked to make people laugh, but never at anyones expense. Tim was a fan of the underdog, not impressed with big shots or show offs.

He had owned a 65 Ford Mustang fastback, and had later traded it for a beautifully restored,
1972 Dart Demon with an everpowerful 340 engine. We had alot of good times in these cars.
Sometimes it was a simple drive, talking about cars, girls, life and whatever else. Some of the drives were admittadely stupid and dangerous. Othertimes, we would just park the cars and talk. I would lay my girlfriend problems on him, we broke up every other month it seemed. He didnt mind my babbling and carrying on. One of our favorite places to hang was behind a certain apartment complex, the view there was really cool. No, it wasnt of the Denver city lights, it was of a 66 Mercury Comet Cyclone.

The Demon met its fate; flipped on the freeway at a very high speed. I remember that day climbing out of the hole where the rear window used to be, on the now upside down car. The car was hammered, myself and 5 other teenagers were standing around the car in shock at the fact that we were not injured. Tim was sick, the car upside down with gas pouring out of the filler spout was an odd sight, and was sickening. I think what made it worse for Tim, was the fact that he wasnt even driving, another friend was- someone else had destroyed his car with him in it! He, in a sense, had allowed it to happen. He had allowed someone else to drive his car at high speed and completely out of control. If we had not been drinking, this would not have happened and he knew it. This, I believe is what made him physically ill, and then he began walking down the median of the freeway toward home. By this time, many, many cars had pulled over and people were scrambling around, concerned for us, and were shocked themselves that we were all in good shape. Tim, just kept walking away...I decided to go after him.

I caught up with him, and we exchanged some words. We talked about how it was just a car and we were all lucky to be alive- of course he agreed. He then leaned over a guard rail and puked...I told him it was a long walk home, like 50 miles, he knew that.

I got him to return back to the scene where a firetruck and an ambulance were now at. He kicked the guard rail in anger and made his walk back more difficult as he nearly broke his toe. In a major car crash without a scratch, and then kicks a guard rail and hurts his toe, that was Tim. He looked at me , as if to say: what else could go wrong, and said "I think I broke my toe." It was a classic 'Tim' comment, placed perfectly in the strangest of situations. You knew it was a bad day when you kick a guard rail and break your toe, right after puking, but not before destroying your classic musclecar.

Time marches on- The Comet was eventually wrecked, slid sideways into a telephone pole, caving in the rear quarter panel- and was parted out. I'd have to take the full blame for driving on that one.

That was the spring of 1988. We, along with another friend, Kurt, had decided we would join the Navy after the summer was over.

Tim and I were cruising one day in his newly purchased 1967 Plymouth Belvedere (AKA MR. Belvedere) (440 powered) when we spotted a Chrysler speedboat in a parking lot. It was called a Sea-Bee with a big Chrysler outboard engine. It was the sea going version of a Super Bee! It even had a little bee emblem on the rear side of the boat. The boat wasnt for sale but it got the gears turning in our heads.

We went to a new boat dealer and gazed our eyes on a brand new Glastron speedboat. We climbed in it, looked under it, and generally slobbered all over the thing. We decided the Glastron was the coolest, because it had the the best looking paint job, not to mention we could opt for the more powerful motor on the lighter boat. A muscleboat! The salesman informed us that the boat could be ours for something like $120 a month. He said since we didnt have any credit and were barely 18, that one of our parents would have to co-sign. He told us to come back the next day and he would let us rip the boat around the lake, awesome!

We drove home dreaming and talking of how we would spend the entire summer at my Dads cabin, in Granby, Colorado, and would terrorize the lake. It was the perfect plan, me and my girlfriend had broken up (again) so I had no reason to stay in town. We would be buzzing the houseboats in our hot rod boat, only to disappear behind a giant rooster tail- hootin and hollering the whole way. It would be the perfect summer- the grand finale!

Strangely, niether one of our fathers shared our enthusiasm- and we never got the boat. I had never been so hacked off at my Dad in my whole life. If we would have survived that summer on the lake, imagine the stories we would have. Bummer.

We had a good time that summer anyway. Tim and myself opted out of the usual parties etc...and headed for the Colorado mountains for some camping and fishing trips. This is when I found out that Tim didnt mind catching rainbow trout all day, but he didnt like cleaning them much.

I recall one camping trip where we had decided to have a hatchet throwing contest. I bounced the hatchet off the tree and it went way off course and ripped right through Tims tent. At least thats how I remember it. Tim seems to think it was a straight shot at the tent- no bounce off the tree. Anyway, actually it was his fathers brand new tent, that Tim had borrowed without permission. We were laughing so hard, mostly becasue Tim was horrified about what he was going to tell his dad. He didnt think my idea of duct taping it together would work too well. I dont remember how that turned out- I just remember telling Tim he could blame it on me (which was very valiant of me, considering that it was my fault.) The summer would go by quickly and before we knew it we were in the US Navy.

1989

The next time we ran into each other was in Great Lakes, Illinois. A wretched place, made better only because my friend Tim was there. It was freezing in the winter and humid in the summer. The only thing amusing about it was the fact that the state park we hung out at was overshadowed by a huge nuclear reactor- we got a kick out of that and figured thats why the people in the nearby towns were so nuts. This also was the reason for the unusually large attack mosquitos in the area. We pitched our money in together and bought a Cadillac with a 512- cubic inch motor (couldnt pass that up). It was a real piece of junk and didnt last long, but got us to where we wanted to go a couple times. Then we found a Olds Delta 88 with a 455 motor in it. The car had no floorboards, just pieces of wood to rest your feet on. We owned it through the winter and that was tough- you had to dress really warm. If you drove with the windows up you would die of monoxide fumes, so it was winter coats, blankets, and windows down all winter in that thing. Even with this you would still have to pull over every 15 minutes just to get out and get some fresh air.

It had a problem starting so we would pour gas down the carb- and spray it with ether. When the carb starting shooting 2 foot flames up in the air, you knew it was ready to start and it always did. That car cracked us up- I dont remember alot of girls going anywhere with us in it. We once parked it in front of a Howard Johnsons hotel, and the next morning we drew quite a crowd of hotel employees as we went through the start up ritual. I think they were afraid we might abandon the car there, but as usual it shot its flames and fired up. It died later that day after the front left wheel locked up about 2 blocks from base- Tim was able to drive it this way all the way into the parking lot with the tire locked up and making the worst squeeling sound you ever heard. It was like the original front wheel drive burnout-

Anyway, we cruised around Milwaukee and went to the Union Grove dragstrip. Saw Ronnie Sox and Dick Landy, alot of fun....but mostly we just were passing the time, until we were sent somewhere else. Tim was eventually shipped out to San Diego, CA. Being a mechanical type he went to work in the engine room of a Marine transport ship as a boiler technician.

I stayed in Illinois to finish up Gas Turbine schoool, but soon got orders to a Destroyer out of San Diego, CA. Where else??

I hooked up with Tim, he had Mr. Belvedere there! Cool. We went cruising the streets of San Diego. We ended up in a place called Mission Beach where we tried to fit in with the surfer/skater types. Although this didnt go too well, as we had Navy haircuts and looked generally lost. We decided we'd be better off just cruising around in the Plymouth. We went down the strip and turned onto a street that ran right down the beach. There were people walking all over the street, we could barely get through. The street was so narrow, Tim was honking and people were looking at us strange and flipping us off. Some were laughing at us. What was up with these morons anyway? We then realized that we were driving the big block beast right down the boardwalk- not exactly a freeway. Oops, maybe we were the morons. Tim somehow managed to get the car off the boardwalk before the cops showed up, and we werent killed by the angry mob either. Bonus!

1990

I had got married to my high school girlfriend- moved her to CA and was divorced shortly thereafter. Tim was the one person I could talk to about all that- and I appreciated that about him, always have. I dont think he thought the marriage was a good idea from the start.

We had rented a house together and partied like crazy when we could. We had to do our Navy assignments and one time our ships had both pulled into the Phillipines at the same time. We got seperated somehow and Tim ended up in Jail, over some fight that was not his fault. Tim was a very peaceful guy and in explaining his case to the Phillipino police they had actually taken the "other guy" outside and beat him. Tim thought he was next, but the cops had a conversation that Tim could not understand, they simply let him go.

We lived together in a run down house in Spring Valley CA. We bought some crotch rocket motorcycles and did our best to be stupid on those things.

1992

Tim was booted from the Navy for smoking pot. Not a big surprise to me, as this was something he had done from the first day I met him. This was hard time for him, and a hard time for me as well...My recent divorce had turned me into an even worse drinker- and Tim followed suit.

Tim would eventually move back home to Colorado and start his life over back there- his Navy time generally a waste. I would continue drinking and eventually put my Suzuki Katana into a guard rail at over 100 miles per hour. A few days in the hospital and I was back on my feet. Tim moved back to Colorado.

1993

I finished up my hitch with the Navy and moved to Oregeon-who knows why?

I would go home to Colorado for holidays and would hook up with Tim. We had had our talks about life etc, but we were older now, and we seemed to be more cynical and put off by life. I don't think either of us liked life too much anymore. At this age you began to pay attention to the world around you- and it was pretty ugly. The worse thing is, becoming the very thing you despised becoming. Slowly realizing you are part of whats wrong in the world.

He seemed to be doing pretty well though, working for a cell phone company. He was doing better than me, anyway. I was working and making good money etc...but my purpose to continue had really escaped me. I started wondering what is life anyway? Was I just supposed to work, eat, buy some junk and then look forward to seeing my parents die, my friends die- and eventually myself. Is that what life was, to try and entertain yourself until the eventual sorrow arrives? To lose yourself in hobbies and other meaningless events until the end of life comes? I wasnt depressed about something I couldnt quite put my finger on, I was depressed at the pure facts of life- at the future that would surely come. I was haunted by the things I had done in my life- too many things to mention here. The worst thing was, an abortion I was involved with some years ago was a constant reminder of what I was; a killer of the innocent for convenience sake- sickening, the ultimate in selfishness, surely this would deserve some sort of punishment, if there were a God.

I of course could numb myself with beer and forget about such things. However, soon alchohol would increase the depression and suicidal thoughts. Suicide was something I had considered, but did my family deserve such sorrow before it was due?

1994

I eventually met a girl and she had been one of these people who went to church regularly.

I would not go- I would go anywhere else in the world, and I had- this probably being the reason I would not go. Eventually, I would go though. Nobody looked at me funny- nobody asked me any touchy-feely questions, and I sat and listened to preachers talk about a life much different from my own. They talked about your life having a purpose and meaning. That sounded good, but what was this purpose and meaning? It was to give your life to Jesus Christ, let Him forgive your sins, and let Him change your heart and use you for His purpose on the earth, which was simply to save souls. Whoa!! Thats some heavy stuff. However, not as heavy as the thought of putting a gun in your mouth. I would become a Christian some months later. The greatest decision of my life. Suicidal thoughts- gone, completely. A new man with a new heart. Did God really forgive my sins? All of them? I believe so- the Bible says He does- how else could I carry on at all? Salvation, this is the power of God.

In 1995 I got married and in 1996 we had our first kid, a girl. Beautiful.

I had told Tim of my new faith in God, my new life. He was happy to hear that I was doing good...and that I was happy. He, however was not happy and was also not about to go to church or become "religious."

1999

He did become something else though; a heroin addict. Tim had been living at his parents house over the last year or so after losing his house. I had wondered what the deal was when I talked to Tim on the phone months earlier- seemed he wanted to tell me something, but never did quite come out with it. Eventually he did tell me and I'll never forget when he asked me if I was still his friend. I told him of course I was, and that he should come out and live with us in Washington and get away from that scene. He didnt want to impose on my family. I told him that was nonsense and he should come out. I wish he would have.

2000

My wife was pregnant with a boy, and we decided his middle name would be "Timothy".

I think Tim was really happy to hear that.

The next time I called Tim wasnt there- he had gotten arrested, and was in jail.

I found this out from Tims heartbroken parents. They told me the story of Tims life over the last couple of years and my heart fell into my stomach. The drugs, a dead roomate from an overdose, and the methadone and withdrawal nightmares.

I decided I should go see him. A friend of mine from church donated a round trip ticket and I flew to Denver. I saw my family and some of my old friends. Then went to Tims parents house to spend the night there, as myself and Tims father had to leave early in the morning to get to the jail for the visiting hour. That night I had talked with Tims mom for about an hour. She was beside herself about her son, I was at a loss for words, this poor family was a wreck.

I went to bed in Tims room. I didnt get much sleep my mind was racing. I can't really explain this to well, but there was some kind of force in his room, that definately did not want me there. Demonic, perhaps I am not sure. I looked through some of his things- I found a Denver Broncos money clip on his dresser and put it in my pocket. My best friend was a heroin addict and was in jail for stealing to get drug money. How had all this happened? Sure, we had all heard that if you smoke pot, it will lead to this and then to that and eventually you'll be a heroin addict. But that doesnt really happen, does it? Well, apparently it does to some people and it just did to my best friend. Convinced, that Tims life could change in an instant if he would just ask Christ into his heart...how would I tell him this? I had told him in letters etc, but not face to face.

Tims folks were up early- and me and Tim's Dad headed for the jail. His dad talked about how me and Tim grew up together.

Tims folks are straight arrows, but his father was well aware of some of the places we hung out. Friends houses whos parents partied with us, and encouraged our partying. He was very angry about that. As teenagers these were the "cool" parents, but in hindsight, not cool at all.

We got to the jail and signed in and all that. I was pretty excited to see Tim, it had been a few years.

They let us into an open room where there were a bunch of chairs facing each other- no tables and no privacy from the other visitors in the same room. They then opened up a door and the prisoners filed into the room. I was not prepared for what I saw, I did not recognize my own best friend. A man with a long grey beard walked toward us and it took me a few seconds to realize it was Tim, a guy younger than myself. He sat down opposite of me and his father. And looked at me as if to say "I am sorry."

We talked, I asked him how he was doing. He said it was bummer in there, but not as bad as other jails he had heard about.

His father had told him that people cared for him and that I was there because I cared for him. It was a little uncomfortable talking to him with his dad there. We had never sat down and carried on a conversation with his dad before.

He told me he appreciated me being there, and his eye contact told me he would rather talk to me privately as well. But that wasnt going to happen.

I tried to keep light telling him about my mopars and stuff like that. I asked him if they had a church service in the jail. He said that they did. His father asked him if he went to it. He stated that he knew what church was about because he had went when he was a kid. (I imagine alot of people that went to church as kids felt it had no use to them now, since they didnt get anything out of it as an 8 year old. Sad, to base such a judgement on the memories of a child long gone.)

I told him that maybe he should go, because obviously the lifestyle he was living now, wasnt exactly working out. He just nodded his head. His dad talked to him a little longer about legal stuff they had to get straightened out. And we told him we loved him.

I told him I took his Broncos money clip and would give it back when he got out of jail. In the back of my mind I prayed that that would be the case- as I believe I took the thing in the first place for something to remember him by.

I flew home the next day. Man I was happy to be home.

2001-

Tim was sent to a prison somewhere in Colorado- We had written back and forth a couple times and he soon was out and back home at his parents house. At least it seemed like a short time to me, but I am sure to Tim it seemd like forever. He was placed on in house arrest, where he had to wear a transmitter on his leg to account for his whereabouts. He got a job at a diesel engine factory. Something like that. Anyway, he was doing good, besides all the legal stuff he still had to go through. But he was out of prison, working again and had a nice place to live. I couldnt wait to see him again- to give him back his money clip and to talk to him face to face privately in a comfortable atmosphere.

I called his house one day and his father answered- Me and his dad were like buddies now. ( I used to avoid this man like the plague)

"Hey, is Tim around"

"No, he...(pause) he is in jail again."

Oh no.

I talked to his dad a little bit and then got off the phone and called my friend Kurt. Kurt was actually on the phone with Tim the same morning he was arrested. Tim had apparently been drinking and then went downtown to get some drugs. Well, this wouldnt jive with his in-house arrest transmitter and the next morning he just sat and waited for the cops to show up and arrest him. Which is exactly what they did.

This is where we are at at this time---

Tim cannot defeat the addiction to drugs. It will take a miracle to break this chain.

I know if Tim will ask God to help him, God will be faithful to help. God wont barge into anyones life.

But if people will humble themselves and ask God to help, He will.

Will God have a purpose for Tims life? Yes, of course, perhaps through all of this Tim will be used by God to help other people with drug problems. I really hope it turns out this way. The question isnt "Can God help?" Millions of testimonies from people all over the world attest to the fact that God will change lives. The question is "Will you ask for the help?"

I am glad I did. I hope Tim will- I hope you will too. You may not be in the terrible hell that Tim is in, but one fact remains. Death waits for us all- and Heaven is our last hope and ultimate goal...only Jesus can take you there.