I never cried easily—not after decades as a school janitor. But when dozens of Harleys rolled into the cemetery for my son’s funeral, I broke down.
Mikey was 14 when he took his own life. In his note, he wrote, “I can’t do this anymore, Dad,” naming four classmates who bullied him daily. I felt I had failed him.
Then Sam, a local biker, offered quiet support. “If you want us there, we’ll come.”
The next day, bikers lined the chapel. When the bullies arrived, their confidence vanished. One father complained. I told him, “So he should be.”
Sam and the bikers spoke at Mikey’s school. Their stories moved students. Change followed—anti-bullying programs launched, and the principal resigned.
I left my job, started a scholarship in Mikey’s name, and now ride with the Steel Angels to support grieving families.
When I hear thunder, I think of Mikey. We ride to protect the next child.