47 Bikers Showed Up To Walk My Son To School After His Daddy Died

“I can’t see!” Tommy giggled, the first real laugh I’d heard from him in months.

Bear adjusted something inside, and suddenly Tommy gasped. “Mommy! Mommy, there’s pictures in here! Pictures of Daddy and me!”

My knees nearly buckled. Bear steadied me with one hand while explaining, “Jim had us install a small display in the visor. Solar-powered, triggered by movement. He’d been planning it as a surprise for Tommy’s 18th birthday, for when he’d be old enough to ride. But when the accident happened…” He cleared his throat. “We figured Tommy needed it now.”

“There’s words too!” Tommy shouted, his voice muffled by the helmet. “It says… it says…” His voice cracked. “It says ‘Be brave, little warrior. Daddy’s watching.’”

The other bikers had formed a path from our door to the street, creating a corridor of leather and chrome. Each man stood at attention, some visibly fighting tears.

“We’re going to walk him to school,” Bear said. “Every day, if needed. Until he’s ready to go on his own. Jim rode with us for fifteen years. His boy is our responsibility now.”

“All of you?” I asked, looking at the dozens of men lining our walkway.

“Every available brother,” Bear confirmed. “We’ve got a rotating schedule worked out. Brothers from three states have signed up. Tommy will never walk alone.”Continue reading…