Ulf Mannebeck, of Linghem Sweden,  is a very interesting fellow, but first a word about his motorcycle.  As a young man, Ulf was an avid and somewhat adventurous rider.  As with many of us, the joys and responsibilities of a family resulted in the necessity to set such things aside.  Since he did not have the money to purchase a bike, he decided to build one, over time, buying a few pieces at a time.   So what you see is a true custom motorcycle.  Its source of parts include Harley-Davidson, Yamaha, John Deere, Volvo, Saab, Chevrolet, and custom parts.   The Engine is a 1969 327 C.I. Corvette engine.   He loves the sound of an American V8.  One day he hopes to tour the United States with his bike.

Ulf will be speaking on Saturday evening of the event.   He is the leader of Church on Wheels, (formerly Biker Church Sweden)  which is an organization that provides services to individuals and clubs in the motorcycle and motor community.  Ulf is an ordained pastor with the Swedish Pentecostal Church and worked for many years in drug rehabilitation. 
 
Ulf Mannebeck's Story
How did I end up in this situation?
   Slowly I snuck inbetween the bushes at the back of our house and peeked into the living room window to see if Dad was at home. Sadly he was, so the only thing for me to do was to turn and leave. Where would I sleep now? Should I go out and try to look for more amphetamines (drugs)? The neighbour saw me, as he was out with the dog. Now I had to look indifferent so I said 'Hi!' as we met on the path and then I continued downtown.
I became a constant war trophy 
     How could it have come to this? I was 15 years old and did heavy drugs. I was lost in the crowd of Stockholm. My first six years, my mother and my two sisters and I lived in Fruängen, a suburb in Stockholm. Then mom re-married my dad and we moved to Högsbotorp in Gothenburg. Coming from Stockholm to live in Gothenburg is not always easy. The outcome in my case was major harassment—everyone was chasing me as a war trophy between the different blocks. One time, my mother saved me from a gang that had thrown a carpet over me and had started to beat me with cudgels. At that time I was lucky to get saved in time. Before long we moved again, and this time the place was called Nödinge, a small village by the Göta river. Sadly, even here I was too different to fit in. Now I was someone from Gothenburg that had a Stockholm accent. It was not easy in this environment. Aside from this, I also came from an ordinary school in Gothenburg and the one in Nödinge had grade one and two in the same class, which also meant that my classmates were ahead of me. My teacher could not understand why I was not at the same level as they were. I became a problem for her. I had been in love with my teacher in Gothenburg but now I started to hate everything that had to do with school. So my school did not become what it was supposed to be. I evaded school and avoiding attending as much as possible.
Home alone
     My parents divorced a second time and I moved with my dad to Stockholm. I was thirteen and was used to drinking alcohol and staying out of school but I had a childlike dream about Stockholm. I was alone with a father that I did not get along well with and during many weekends my dad was gone to hunt for a new woman. Alone in the house and scared of the dark, I did not know what to do. So I started to arrange parties. It is easy to get 'friends' in such a situation. During my first visit to a youth center, I ended up in a drug dealing business. It turned out that I made friends who smoked hashish and after that my life went downward fast. On midsummer’s evening 1971, I was alone as usual at home and of course I wanted to arrange a party for my friends. Some new guys showed up at that party and shared some amphetamine. It was then that all my security disappeared. It became a combination of being thrown out and running away from home. I was not allowed to come home unless I called first. All locks to the house were changed and the windows blocked. It was a very strange situation to be in for a fifteen year-old boy. Sadly it was going to get a lot worse: police, social officers, detoxification, psychotherapy treatment, foster home, etc. Sadly this is a common way downhill for many young people. After a few years, I ended up with my mother in Kungälv. My life was mostly filled with agony and paranoia. To ease this pain I mixed alcohol and drugs. It was suposed to be able to keep myself together.
When the Christmas holiday came, I had reached rock bottom.
      One day the doorbell rang and it was Maria. How nice, I thought and invited her in. I offered a case of strong beer. Maria was a very lively and fun girl, so I looked forward to a nice afternoon.  To my great surprise, Maria started to tell about how she had met Jesus.     “What on earth are you saying, don't you know that He has been dead for a long time?” But whatever I said she insisted that He is alive and that He answers prayer. This continued and she wrote letters to me and brought me along to Christian meetings. This was, I thought, a very suspicious environment. It all happened during the fall and when the Christmas holiday came I had reached rock bottom. I felt that I did not have the strength to continue anymore. Something had to happen, otherwise it all had to end. 
How could Nisse know?
     Once I ended up at a pub in Gothenburg, contemplating why the Christians were so different and what type of life they were talking about. What was actually the meaning of life, etc…The questions were spinning around in my head while I was looking around in the pub. I remember thinking, "how many are sitting here laughing due to the effect of the beer but are actually crying inside?"  No! Now I have had enough, I thought, and put out the cigarette. I left the pub on staggering legs and headed for the Linnea house on Linne´street 35 (a Christian café and rehab center). On my way there I cried out from my inside: Jesus, if you exist, please save me. As I entered the Linnea house, a man met me and brought me to an office. After we had talked for a while he started to pray for me. Suddenly, I felt like a huge magnet made the room tilt forward. To my surprise, the man named Nisse said, "This is what the Lord says..." Then Nisse started to tell about things from my life that he could not know. After this experience, I felt dizzy and went home. I wondered what all this could mean and how Nisse could know all this about me. Could it be that God cared for someone like me?
A more solid ground under my feet
     Now a battle started in my life. It was if someone had stirred up a whole nest of wasps. But one thing had become crystal clear to me: there was not only a good power, there was an evil power as well, and that power would not let go of the grip over my life without a battle. This battle within me and around me went backward and forward. All of these experiences and people were too real to be neglected.  One such experience in the midst of all these battles, and something that became a crossroad for me, was when I was baptized in the Pentecostal Church in Kungälv. To be baptized in Christ and to bury the old life meant that I got much more solid ground under my feet.
I bowed my knees at my bed
     The next big step forward in my commitment to God came during the summer in Kungälv. Every summer the Pentecostal Church people used to have tent meetings at Kvarnkullen. This was not a popular thing for me nor for my friends. This was the place where we used to gather and have lots of parties.  So the day came when the tent was going to be raised and I was there helping out. Just then the inevitable happened: my whole gang showed up as usual with lots of beer. They sat down under some trees, got some hashish in a pipe and started smoking, and of course they saw me. One of my friends came up to me and he was quite drunk. “Hey you look hot and sweaty, do you want a beer,” he asked and laughed. “No thanks,” I answered. If I at any time in life had felt ridiculous, it was now. I had been a part of disturbing the Pentecostal meetings before and here I was now, helping them out. After a while I went home. I bowed my knees by my bed and told God that I could not be a Christian. How can I witness about you? I wondered. My old friends thought that I had become a fool. In spite of this, I went to the first tent meeting. But I felt very upset with God.Suddenly in the midst of the meeting, an older lady at the other side of the tent started to speak loud in another language. I experienced at the same time something like a very strong current going through me. This feeling did not stop until the lady had finished. The guest speaker who was invited for the tent meeting stood up and went up to the microphone and said: This is what the Lord says: “I saw you when you bowed your knees by your bed and said that you could not be a Christian. But you need to know that I have called you according to what I can do and not according to what you can do. And from now on, you will receive power to be my witness.” After that experience I also received a prayer language, what is called speaking in tongues. My boldness to stand up for my faith became much different after this experience.
A gift from God
     The fact is that most of my life became so different and actually only for the better. Ever since I was a young boy I had dreamt of having a motorcycle. Now even this dream became a reality. Another step forward in my life was to start at the Hjälmared community college and to be able to catch up with what I had missed out on my schooling. At this time, I also become a member of the Christian motorbike club Messengers in Alingsås. There I also met Elisabeth, a gift from God. She became my life partner and co-worker in the calling to serve God, which I have done in different ways both in Teen Challenge, The LP-trust and as a pastor in a church.Now, I am a pastor to the motorbike clubs through Biker Church. It is both very enjoyable and exciting to serve God and riding a motorbike makes it incredibly fun!

Vincent And the Van-Goes

    This Band will be playing Saturday afternoon at the lakefront
    Several years ago John “Mr. Jack” Hutchinson asked his longtime friend and musical collaborator Bill “Jazz Sticks” Mohn (both founding members of the Skyblues Band) if he’d like to “add some percussion” to an upcoming solo gig he had. Bill agreed, and the rest is history. Well, sort of. 
        This continued for a couple years with numerous guests. One regular guest was another longtime friend, Joe "The Professor" Wambach. Mr. Jack saw that this was starting to become an actual band, so he suggested that they come up with a name. Bill suggested “Vincent and the Van-Goes”, and since no one could think of anything better, history once again was made. The trio played their first gig under the new pseudonym in the fall of 2007. Around Christmas they finally added a bass player in the person of another longtime friend and musical collaborator, Corey Bliss.
       The one word that best describes the music of the Van-Goes is variety. However, this is no variety band, ala “Knock Three Times” and “Brown-Eyed Girl.” The band states that they play “Blues, rockabilly, surf and stuff”, and that’s exactly what you’ll hear when they play. While the first three styles are self-explanatory, the “stuff” is open-ended, and they like it that way. Don’t be surprised to hear some rock and a little jazz thrown in the mix.
       Not only do the VGs prefer to avoid empty music, they prefer to have something positive to say lyrically. Their songs are devoid of sexual innuendoes and the hopelessness found in so much of today’s music. The VGs are happiest when they can sing Truth in music they love.
      With all due respect to Mr. Van Gogh, the band hopes everyone will come out and enjoy some live music not often heard in these parts.