After the meal, Tank suggested they take a ride. “Got an extra helmet?” he asked Diesel. With a grin, Diesel retrieved one, and soon Arthur found himself on the back of a Harley, the wind whipping against his face, a sensation he hadn’t felt in years.

The roar of the engines was like music, a symphony of freedom and solidarity. As they rode through the town and out into the open country, Arthur felt something he hadn’t in a long time—hope.

When they returned to the diner, Arthur’s eyes sparkled with gratitude. “I don’t know how to thank you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.