Author: JohnButler5495@gmail.com

I woke up from heart surgery to discover my best friend of 40 years had emptied my garage. Six vintage…

My son was ashamed to introduce me to his fiancée’s parents. For forty-three years, I’d worn the leather vest with…

I spent forty years building the Riders of Thunder motorcycle club from nothing. My blood was in every mile of…

The words hit me like a guardrail at 80 mph: “Dad, we don’t think you should be around the kids…

I found the “For Sale” ad for my 1976 Harley Shovelhead when I was checking my grandson’s computer. My own…

I always knew the road would take my father someday. Just didn’t figure it would happen on his Birthday, not…

They buried my bike with me. I know because I watched them do it. From wherever I am now, I…

The morning they tore down my clubhouse, I sat in the rain and wept. Forty years of memories crushed to…

They laughed at my old Harley and faded leathers when I pulled into the Thunder Road Bar. “Look what rolled…

Nobody expected fifty bikers at my son’s funeral. Least of all the four teenagers who put him there. I’m not…