The road was quiet that afternoon. One of those long suburban stretches where cars speed up because no one thinks they’ll be stopped. My son rode ahead of me, his bike hugging the shoulder like I’d taught him. Helmet on. Head down. Careful. Then the engine came. Loud. Aggressive. Too fast. The sedan drifted right. Too right. I shouted his name. The car swerved again—deliberate this time—and clipped the edge of the bike lane. My son lost balance, his tire skidding on loose gravel. He barely stayed upright. I slammed my brakes and jumped out. The driver didn’t stop at... Continues…
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