Wiping down the concrete floor with a long wooden push broom was Gunner, the club’s road veteran. He stood towering in a black leather cut emblazoned with the Warmer Riders patch, his muscular arms covered in sleeve tattoos and his salt-and-pepper beard resting over his chest. In the background, two club brothers leaned against a workbench, adjusting an engine block.
A small shadow appeared in the bright sunlight of the open garage bay.
Standing on the threshold was Toby, a nine-year-old boy wearing a gray zip-up hoodie, blue jeans, and carrying a heavy backpack slung over both shoulders. He stood with his small fists clenched at his sides, trembling slightly from nervousness, yet his eyes were locked firmly onto Gunner.