Bill’s Storytime
Bill leaned closer to me, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Back when the roads were wilder,” he began, a faraway look in his eyes. His words carried weight, like each sentence was carefully chosen, full of meaning. He didn’t need to say much to paint a picture of a time when McClain wasn’t just a name but a force to be reckoned with. Bill’s tone had the kind of reverence reserved for someone who had seen it all, someone who had lived through those stories firsthand.
What Bill was telling me wasn’t just a tale—it was the kind of legend that still held power in the biker world. McClain hadn’t just been a figure on the road; he’d been an enforcer, someone whose reputation preceded him. Bill’s quiet reverence made it clear that McClain had earned his place in history. Those stories were part of the fabric of the road, woven into every whispered conversation at gas stations like this one. Even now, as Bill spoke, you could almost feel the weight of McClain’s past in the air.
