The kid standing over him couldn’t have been more than 25. Backwards cap, face tattoos, pants hanging below his ass, filming everything on his phone while his two buddies laughed.

“Should’ve minded your business, old man,” the punk said, zooming in on Harold’s face. “This gonna get mad views. ‘Old head gets dropped for talking shit.’ You’re about to be famous, grandpa.”

What the punk didn’t know was that Harold hadn’t been talking shit. He’d simply asked them to move their car from the handicapped spot so he could park his oxygen tank closer to the door.

What the punk also didn’t know was that the Stop-N-Go was our regular fuel stop, and 47 members of the Savage