Frank couldn’t help but shake his head slightly. In his day, men carried themselves with more dignity. He straightened his back, adjusted his veteran’s cap, and made his way to the diner’s door.

Just as he reached for the handle, one of the bikers stepped in front of him.

“Whoa there, Gramps,” the man sneered. “Ain’t it past your bedtime?”

Frank looked up at the biker, meeting his gaze steadily. “Son, I’ve been waking up before you were even a twinkle in your daddy’s eye. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get my lunch.”

The biker’s friends chuckled, forming a loose circle around Frank.