I’m a sixty-three-year-old biker covered in ink and scars, and I’ve seen some things in my life. Vietnam. Bar fights. Brothers dying on the highway. But nothing prepared me for the pure terror in this six-year-old’s eyes when she ran up to me in the cereal aisle and latched onto my vest.
I’m a sixty-three-year-old biker covered in ink and scars, and I’ve seen some things in my life. Vietnam. Bar fights.…
