I saw you, hug your purse closer in the grocery store line.
But you didn't see me make a donation to the Salvation Army.
I saw you pull your child closer, when we passed each other on the sidewalk.
But you didn't see me playing Santa at the local mall.
I saw you change your mind about going into the restaurant.
But you didn't see me attend a meeting to raise more money for the hurricane relief.
I saw you roll up your window and shake your head when I drove by.
But you didn't see me driving behind you when you flicked your cigarette butt out the car window.
I saw you frown at me when I smiled at your children.
But you didn't see me when I took time off from work to ride in a Toy Run.
I saw you roll your eyes at our leather coats and gloves.
But you didn't see me, and my brothers, donate our old coats and gloves to those who needed them.
I saw you change lanes abruptly in front of me.
But you didn't see me riding home to be with my family.
I saw you reading a map as you drove swerved into my lane.
But, you didn't see me, squeeze my wife's leg when she told me to take the next turn.
I saw you entering the left turn lane cell phone in hand. But you didn't see me enter the intersection.
I saw you turn two tons of steel in front of me. But you didn't see me avoid the collision and leave the road.
I saw you waiting impatiently for my friends to pass.
But you didn't see me, I wasn't there.
I saw you go home to your family.
But you didn't see me, because, I was in the hearse, just a biker—a veteran and human being with friends and a family.
–from Rogue
Motorcycle Hall Of Fame Member 2005
