For the first time, Rusty saw uncertainty in him.
Jim walked toward the FXR.
“Do it.”
Rusty shook his head.
“You do it.”
Jim stared.
Rusty held out the key.
“It’s his bike.”
Jim took it.
He approached the motorcycle slowly.
His hand rested on the handlebar.
Then the tank.
He straddled the seat.
For several seconds, he did not move.
Leo stepped forward.
“Hidden switch.”
Jim looked at him.
The boy pointed.
“Under the left side.”
Jim reached down.
His fingers searched.
Found it.
Click.
Jim looked at the key.
He turned it.
Pressed the starter.
The black FXR came alive.
Every conversation outside stopped.
Men turned.
A few raised fists.
Others simply stared.
Jim’s face did something Rusty had never seen before.
It broke.
The old biker leaned forward with both hands on the bars.
His eyes closed.
The engine idled beneath him.
For a moment, Dutch was not dead.
Not entirely.
Something that had belonged to him still spoke.
Jim opened his eyes.
He looked at Leo.
Then at Rusty.
“Tomorrow.”
Rusty nodded.
Jim shut the bike down.
He dismounted.
Then he walked straight toward Leo.
The boy looked nervous.
Jim held out his hand.
Leo shook it.
Jim did not release immediately.
“Saturday morning, seven.”
Leo looked at Rusty.
Rusty nodded.
Jim continued.
“You ride in the support truck.”
Leo’s eyes widened.
“With the bikes?”
“Behind Dutch.”
Leo looked toward the FXR.
“Really?”
Jim nodded.
“Your father kept that machine alive before you were born.”
He squeezed the boy’s hand.
“You finished the job.”
Saturday morning, Apex Iron Works opened before sunrise.
By six, motorcycles had begun arriving.
By seven, the street was nearly impassable.
By eight, the gathering stretched for blocks.
Black leather.
Denim.
Club colors.
Independent riders.
Old riders.
Young riders.
Veterans.
Mechanics.
Widows.
Families.
Men who had known Dutch for forty years stood beside people who had met him once.
Some carried flowers.
Some wore black armbands.
Some had photographs taped to windshields.
The black FXR waited at the front.
Polished, but not restored.
Rusty refused to make it look new.
The scratches remained.