Just yesterday, I got an email from my friend John in Wisconsin. He’d been riding on one of his state’s many scenic byroads when he saw a group of Harley riders coming his way. He moved to the edge of his lane without a thought. The riders passed and were gone.
Moments later, another Harley came over the brow of a hill straight toward him , the rider passing a car across double yellow no-passing lines. John, already at the edge of the road, well out of the way of the loud-piped scofflaw,