The morning they tore down my clubhouse, I sat in the rain and wept. Forty years of memories crushed to dust. The wrecking ball swung. Again. Again. Each blow felt like it hit my chest. I was the last one left. Cancer took Diesel. Heart attack got Preacher. Knuckles and Wrench died in that crash…
They buried my bike with me. I know because I watched them do it. From wherever I am now, I could see everything—my mangled body on the rain-slicked asphalt, my crushed Harley Davidson Road King lying twenty feet away, oil and blood mingling in a dark pool. The paramedics didn’t even bother with CPR. One…
I always knew the road would take my father someday. Just didn’t figure it would happen on his Birthday, not half a mile from the shop he’d owned for thirty years. The police said a texting teenager drifted across the center line. Dad’s ancient Indian Chief couldn’t swerve fast enough. Seventy-two years on this earth,…