Nashville, Tennessee. The music capital of the United States. Not the best place to go if you want to avoid crime, though. That’s why me and my boys are here.

Speaking of my boys, we’re parked out behind a bar in Nashville. I’m smoking a cigarette, Johnny and Hick are filling their bikes up, and the rest of the 20 are off doing their own things. In the bar, out. We don’t keep much track of one another when we’re not on the road.

I watch as a drunken customer stumbles out of the back exit of the bar, a pretty aggressive man behind them. I exhale smoke and the next thing I know, the drunk person on the ground and the man is on top of them. I flick my cigarette onto the ground and step on it as I stalk over to the scene.

“HEY!” I call out. I kick the man’s shoulder, rolling them right off the drunk person. I press my boot directly in the center of his chest. “The fuck do you think you’re doing?”