Why They Ride
Their leader, Darryl, explained between bites. A giant of a man, rough voice, but eyes soft with memory.
“My mama spent her last years alone in a nursing home. No one visited. It ate me up. So we made a promise—no more forgotten elders. We ride for them now.”
Every head around the table nodded.
They fix fences, deliver groceries, sit on porches to talk. Tough hands, tender work.
And me? I wept into my napkin.
