The 91‑year‑old veteran was harassed by bikers at a diner, but when he made one phone call, the warm summer sun beat down on Frank Hawkins’s weathered face as he eased his old pickup truck into the parking lot of Rosie’s Diner. At ninety‑one years old, Frank moved a bit slower these days, but his eyes still held the sharp glint of a man who’d seen more than his fair share of life.
As he carefully maneuvered himself out of the driver’s seat, the rumble of approaching motorcycles filled the air. Five gleaming bikes rolled into the lot, their riders clad in leather jackets adorned with patches Frank didn’t recognize. The bikers— all younger men with long beards and tattoos— dismounted and swaggered toward the diner’s entrance.
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