I Taught My Son to Ride and Three Weeks Later I Had to Bury His Helmet

And for three years I watched that boy turn into the rider I had always hoped he’d be. Steady hands. Clean lines. Respect for the machine.

Three weeks ago he was riding home from his second week at a new job. Seven-thirty at night. Clear sky. Two miles from our house.

A woman in a white sedan ran a stop sign on Route 6.

She had a BAC of 0.19.

She was on continue reading …