He would have ridden past.
But as he approached the house, he noticed the girl's expression.
She was not laughing.
Not calling toward passing cars.
Not eagerly showing off her bicycle.
She stood with both hands gripping the handlebars, watching the street with a seriousness that did not belong on a six-year-old's face.
The old biker slowed.
Then he noticed the woman beneath the oak tree.
She sat wrapped in a blanket, her posture slumped, her face pale.
She looked exhausted.
The old man glanced toward the girl again.
Something about the scene troubled him.
He pulled his motorcycle toward the curb.
The engine rumbled deeply beneath him.
The girl turned.
Her eyes widened.
For one moment, she seemed frightened.
Then she looked at the motorcycle.
Black paint.
Chrome handlebars.
A large engine.
A worn leather seat.
It was the most impressive machine she had seen all day.
The old biker switched off the engine.
The sudden quiet seemed enormous.
He removed his gloves.
Then looked toward the little girl.
"Afternoon, sweetheart."
She swallowed.
"Hello."
He glanced at the bicycle.
"That's a mighty fine bike you've got there."
She looked down.
"Thank you."
He pointed toward the sign.
"Says you're selling it."
She nodded.
"Yes, sir."
The old man rested one forearm across his handlebars.
"Saving up for something special?"
The girl hesitated.
Then shook her head.
"No."
He studied her.
"Outgrown it?"
"No."
"Got another one?"
She shook her head again.
The old biker frowned slightly.
"Then why are you selling it?"
She looked toward the porch.
For a moment, he thought she would refuse to answer.
Then she whispered, "My mom needs food."
The old biker went still.
The girl continued.
"She says she's not hungry, but I know she is."
He slowly lowered one foot to the pavement.
The child looked at her sneakers.
"She hasn't eaten anything in two days."
The words struck him so unexpectedly that he could not answer.
He looked toward the woman beneath the tree.
Then back at the girl.
"Two days?"
She nodded.
"I had toast yesterday."
Her voice became smaller.
"She didn't."
The old biker swallowed.