His name patch said Lucky, but I don’t think he felt like that in the moment.
We were at the biker charity event—my sister dragged me along, said it was for a good cause and there’d be free hot dogs. I didn’t know what to expect. Just a parking lot full of leather jackets, big engines, and louder laughs than I was used to.
My niece, Riley, in her pink hoodie and sparkly sandals, holding her favorite teddy bear like it was a bouquet. She was nervous, I could tell. Said she wanted to give it to “someone who looked sad but strong.” I didn’t really understand what she meant.
But when she walked up to him—this huge guy with a braided beard, sitting on the curb like the noise had gotten too loud—I watched his whole body go still.