Biker Was Crying Over A Thing In That Blue Towel And I Had To Pull Over To See What Broke This Tough Man

This massive biker I’d feared hugged me while we cried over a puppy we hadn’t known an hour ago.

“The world’s hard enough,” he said quietly. “We gotta be soft where we can be.”

The surgery took three hours. We drank bad coffee and talked. He told me about his life—Vietnam vet, mechanic, widower, two grown kids he rarely saw. He’d been riding to clear his head when he heard her cry.

“I almost didn’t hear her over my engine,” he said. “One second later and I’d have missed her. I think someone upstairs wanted me to find her.”

When the vet said the surgery was successful, Nomad cried again. Happy tears.

She’d stay five days, then go home with him. Six weeks of recovery, therapy, medication. He took notes like he was preparing for the most important job of his life.

I drove him back to his bike at sunset. Before he got out, he turned to me. “Chris, you changed your whole day for a stranger and a dog. That’s rare. That’s real. If you ever need anything, you call me.” He handed me a card.Continue reading…