I’d seen what happened five minutes earlier that nobody else had witnessed.

The girl had stumbled out of a black sedan that had peeled away the second she closed the door.

She’d collapsed next to pump three, crying so hard she couldn’t breathe. That’s when Thunder Road MC had pulled in for gas – all 47 of them on their annual charity ride.

I’m Marcus, 67 years old, been riding since I came back from Vietnam in ’73. That morning, I was driving my truck instead of riding because my bike was in the shop.

Been a member of Thunder Road for thirty-two years, but nobody recognized me without my cut and helmet.

The lead rider, Big John, had spotted the girl first. John