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(Part 2) My Stepmother Sold Dad’s Fifty Year Old Harley While He Lay Dying
Only when I was several miles from the house did I pull over to collect my thoughts and check my phone, which was buzzing incessantly in my pocket. Six missed calls from Carol, three from Mark, and a text from Janet that simply read: “You’re making things worse. Bring the bike back NOW.” I didn’t…
(Part 2) The Nurse Threw My Father’s Biker Vest in the Trash While He Lay Dying
I rose, suddenly terrified. The Iron Horsemen stood as well, a wall of leather and resolve behind me. “We’re family,” Brick said firmly. “Whatever you need to say, you can say to all of us.” The doctor hesitated, then nodded. “Mr. Mercer is stabilizing. The medication is reducing the brain swelling, which is a positive…
I Was Banned from my Grandson School Because of My Biker Appearance
“Sir, I’m going to need you to step away from the fence. Now.” The security guard’s hand hovered near his radio as I stood outside Fairfield Elementary, clutching a brown paper lunch bag. “Parents have complained,” he added, eyes avoiding mine. I’d fought in war, survived three motorcycle crashes that should’ve killed me, buried more…
The Last Time I Saw My Daughter Was 13 Years Ago. Yesterday, I Received a Letter from Her
I lost my daughter 13 years ago when my wife left me for another man. Yesterday, I received a letter addressed to “Grandpa Steve,” and my heart nearly stopped when I read what had happened. Thirteen years. That’s how long it had been since I last saw my daughter, Alexandra. She was only 13 years…
I Tried To Kick Old Bikers Out Of Church as Their Tattoos and Leather Made Me Uncomfortable
I hated the old bikers who started showing up at our church. These bikers (gangsters more appropriately) had no place in God’s house, especially not these gray-bearded Vietnam vets who refused to dress properly for worship or leave their sinful past behind. Every Sunday, they’d rumble into our church parking lot on their loud Harleys,…
I Was Kicking Out Criminal Bikers Pretending To Be Heroes Until He Asked About My Dad
“Those damn bikers don’t deserve to be here with real heroes,” I muttered to my partner as we watched a group of leather-clad veterans roll into the Veterans Day ceremony at Arlington Cemetery. Twenty-three years on the force, and I still couldn’t stand seeing motorcycle clubs at official events. Didn’t matter if they’d served –…