[Reprinted from Daily Wire]
So it’s 1987, and me and my buddies, all home from college, pull up to a bar somewhere out in the sticks near Aurora, Illinois. It borders an abandoned railroad spur and corn and soybean fields surround the gravel parking lot. A rank of gleaming Harleys resting at a slight tilt sit muffler to fat muffler along the walkway. You…
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to Brad Schaeffer: As I See It to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.