It All Started with a Slap
A single, senseless slap in the Stop-N-Go parking lot off Highway 49 shattered the quiet that afternoon. Harold Wiseman—81 years old, a Korean War veteran, a man who earned a Purple Heart—was struck across the face by a young man filming for social media clout. His hearing aid skidded across the pavement. What the punk didn’t know was that 47 members of the Savage Riders Motorcycle Club were inside the store… and saw it all through the window.
I’m Dennis “Tank” Morrison, president of the Savage Riders. We were mid-way through our monthly meeting when we looked out and saw Harold on his knees—shaken, bleeding, and trying to pick himself up. His hands trembled. His skin was torn. And yet, his dignity remained intact.
The attacker couldn’t have been more than 25. He and his buddies laughed, phones rolling, clueless about the storm they were about to walk into.
And all this… because Harold had politely asked them to move their car out of a handicapped parking spot—so he could unload his oxygen tank and get his usual Thursday coffee.
But in today’s world, decency is too often mistaken for weakness.
A Silent Show of Strength
We didn’t yell. We didn’t run. We didn’t threaten.
Forty-seven bikers stood up and walked outside as one—forming a quiet wall of presence, respect, and accountability. The young man froze in place, the phone in his hand suddenly forgotten. His smirk disappeared.
I stepped forward, calm and clear. “Pick up the hearing aid. Apologize. And wait here. The police are on their way.”
Even in that moment, bleeding and shaken, Harold looked up at me and said, “Tank… let’s not make it worse than it already is.”
That’s the kind of man Harold is. A man of peace, even when peace hasn’t been shown to him.
