I almost didn’t let Javi ride to school that morning. His back tire wobbled, and he was already bracing for the chorus—“baby bike,” snickers at the streamers, the squeaky bell. He’s nine. He still loves that bike. Lately he’s been faking stomachaches to avoid it.

I vented in a local Facebook group—how mean kids can be, how he wipes his little silver bike with baby wipes every night, proud of the flame stickers he picked himself. I expected a few “hang in there” replies.

Instead, my phone exploded. A woman named Mairead said her brother rode with a biker group that did “positive rides” for kids. Continues…