After the ride, Bear handed me a small, worn notebook. “Found this in Jim’s old army locker,” he said. Inside were pages filled with dreams, fears, baby names, even sketches of motorcycles with sidecars.

On the very last page, Jim had written: “If I don’t get to grow old, let me at least give my boy the tools to live full. And if I can’t hold his hand, may my brothers do it for me.”

The Legacy That Lives On