Some bikers were painting my mother’s house pink after she died at 4 a.m., and I didn’t know any of them.Some bikers were painting my mother’s house pink after she died at 4 a.m., and I didn’t know any of them.

community center for years—something I knew, but only in the broadest sense. What I didn’t know was who she had been helping.

Among others, she had spent time working with a group of veterans who rode motorcycles together. Not as a club in the stereotypical sense, but as a kind of support network. They had seen things, experienced things, and found continue reading …