47 Bikers Showed Up To Walk My 5-Year-Old Son Into Kindergarten After His Father Was Killed Riding His Motorcycle To Work
They came at 7 AM sharp—forty-seven engines growling in unison, leather vests catching the early light, and boots crunching on our driveway like thunder rolling in slow motion. Not to intimidate. To protect. To heal. My son, Tommy, hadn’t set foot outside in three weeks. Not since the funeral. Every morning, he’d wrap his arms…
