The Machine That Carried More Than Metal At twenty-nine, I wasn’t looking for anything meaningful. I just needed a way to get back to work. My car had failed, and with it, any sense of stability. What I found instead was an old Harley-Davidson motorcycle listed online for ninety-eight dollars—barely within reach, but still possible. The seller was an elderly man in a quiet, worn-down repair shop. He didn’t say much. Just asked if I had family nearby, then handed me a folded piece of paper along with the bike. I didn’t ask questions. I didn’t feel like I had...
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