Born to be mild

Usually when you see a member of a biker gang the reaction is to give them a wide berth, accelerate quickly past them and hope they're not going to rev their engines to deafening levels next to you at the red light.

My reaction to this guy, who was in front of me today, was gratitude. I was grateful he cleaned and sobered up. Grateful he was telling the world about it. Grateful for the can't-judge-a-book-by-its-cover lesson that I continue to learn over and over, seemingly right when I need to.

It's like when the Hell's Angels descend on Daly City every year for the annual blood drive. Hundreds of bikers take over the main drag on their Harleys, roaring into town ready to do nothing but good (something I'm aware not all Hells Angels chapters do).

Anyway, to the guy on the bike in front of me, thanks for the reminder.

That what makes you badass isn't where you start. It's where you finish.