A small grocery store offered bottled water.
Then somebody shared the story about the little boy who had tried to hire bikers to fight cancer with seven dollars and forty cents.
By the end of the first week, we had nearly a hundred people interested.
By the second, the number had doubled.
I began worrying.
Not because I didn't want people to help.
Because I'd seen good intentions turn into something overwhelming.
Tucker was a sick little boy.
He wasn't a public figure.
He didn't need strangers demanding photographs, hugs, or emotional stories about his illness.
And Angie didn't need hundreds of people treating her son's medical condition like an afternoon's entertainment.
So we made rules.
The event would be open to the community.
Donations would be handled through the nonprofit we'd chosen.
Tucker's medical details would not be discussed beyond what Angie approved.
Nobody would be promised access to him.
And there would be no expectation that he attend if he didn't feel well.
Some people complained.
One rider asked why we weren't using Tucker's photograph on every flyer.
I told him that a child wasn't advertising material.
Another suggested filming a visit to the hospital.
Ron shut that down immediately.
“Don't turn the kid's bad day into a show.”
After that, people stopped arguing.
The more we planned, the more I understood how much work was involved in helping responsibly.
We needed permission for the event location.
We needed safe routes and enough volunteers.
We needed to keep the ride from interfering with ordinary traffic.
We needed places for motorcycles to park.
And we needed a clear way for donations to reach families without the money disappearing into an informal account nobody could verify.
A woman who worked for the nonprofit helped us organize the paperwork.
She was in her forties, with short curly hair and a no-nonsense expression that reminded me of Sarah's favorite nurse.
At our first meeting, she spread forms across the clubhouse table.
Ron stared at them.
“Good Lord. We're just trying to help a kid.”
She smiled.
“Then help him properly.”
I laughed.
Ron grumbled.
But by the end of the afternoon, he was asking more questions than anybody.
The nonprofit explained that Tucker's fund could assist with eligible family expenses related to treatment, including travel, temporary lodging, and certain uncovered costs. It could also provide practical assistance to other families facing similar burdens if donations exceeded the amount Tucker's family reasonably needed.
Angie approved the arrangement.
She wanted the support.
But she insisted that people understand Tucker wasn't the only sick child in Oklahoma.