Jackson, my ten-year-old son, was having a seizure and shaking on the scorching asphalt. People honked their horns and yelled, and some even got out their phones to record instead of helping. One guy even said he would drive us over if we didn’t move. I was scared and frustrated, and I felt completely helpless. I couldn’t protect him, couldn’t call 911 quickly enough, and I felt completely alone.
Then the sound of motorcycles filled the air. Seventeen strangers in leather gathered us, making a wall of steel and bravery between Jackson and the traffic that didn’t care.
Jackson had fallen off his bike, and the seizure came out of nowhere. His little body trembled wildly, and he foamed at the mouth as he rolled dangerously close to the road. I couldn’t pick him up and keep him secure at the same time. Usually, my calls for help were ignored.
The riders didn’t think twice, though. Bear, the leader, was a tall man in a paramedic vest who crouched down next to Jackson. He said gently, “How long has he been seizing?”
“Three minutes, maybe four,” I said in shock.
“Not good enough.” Making a circle. “Now,” Bear said.
The bikers quickly formed a protective circle around us with their motorcycles and then stepped in front of us as a human shield, stopping aggressive drivers and honking cars. One rider instructed me to accurately document Jackson’s seizure for his medical records.
Minutes went by, and each one felt like an hour. Bear and a woman named Angel watched over Jackson, keeping an eye on his airway, giving him cold compresses, and calming him down. At the same time, two bikers rode into traffic, making room for the ambulance to get through.
When EMTs got there, they knew right away what was going on. Bear and the motorcyclists worked perfectly with the paramedics to get Jackson onto the stretcher. The seizure stopped eight minutes later, and Jackson was finally safe.
I rode behind the ambulance on Bear’s motorcycle, which I never thought I would do, but I trusted him without thinking about it. The bikers took us all the way to the hospital, stopping traffic, keeping us safe, and waiting with Jackson until the doctors said he was stable.
Jackson’s seizure turned out to be a breakthrough episode because he was dehydrated and overheated. It might have been the beginnings of a controllable ailment. But the bikers stayed. They brought food, coffee, and comfort. They told us their stories and put us in touch with doctors.
From that day on, these seventeen people who didn’t know each other became family. They hold a charity event called “Jackson’s Ride” every year to raise awareness about epilepsy. Jackson, who is now 13, rides proudly behind Bear, who has a vest that says, “Protected by Road Warriors MC.”
People who recorded instead of helping, on the other hand, were criticized in public, and some lost their jobs or faced retaliation. Who are the motorcycle riders involved? They became local heroes, and their actions inspired many others to be kind and protect others in the neighborhood.
Many people in society fear the wrong individuals. When people are standing by and watching, the ones who seem scary on motorcycles are often the first to step in.
Jackson lived because they chose to do something instead of nothing and to be brave instead of easy. This was due to their observation of a person in need and their unwavering willingness to assist.
Have you ever seen strangers step up when others didn’t? Tell your story below and honor the heroes who do the right thing when it counts.
