For over four decades, I lived behind a wall of prejudice, convinced that the world was divided into respectable citizens and those who rode on two wheels. My name is Kevin, and I spent forty two years perfecting the art of the condescending glance. To me, a leather vest was a uniform for criminals, and the roar of a Harley-Davidson was nothing more than a public nuisance. I was the man who locked his car doors at red lights if a motorcycle pulled up beside me. I was the father who whispered warnings to his daughter about dangerous men with...
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