rescue riders

I’D ALREADY DRIVEN the length of Joshua Tree National Park on a weekend day trip. I was about to pull into one final viewing point before heading home. But the parking lot was full. I eyed the packs of motorcycles filling up the spaces.

These “types” really set me off. It wasn’t just the bike engines shattering the silence. Something about the kind of people who loved riding Harleys unnerved me. Roaring up between the lanes in traffic