The author and his brother (right) weren?t always this close. But time ?and a Harley-Davidson ?heals all wounds.

Thirty years after the fact, my older brother still likes to remind everyone that I managed to blow a full-ride scholarship my first semester at college even though I was supposedly ?the brains of the family.? I think he enjoys telling the story because, at the time, he believed it was a flaw in my armor, a chip in the chrome plating. But even then, he must have thought I would do well for myself. Otherwise, he might not have made a deal that ultimately brought him to my doorstep with a Harley-Davidson Heritage Softail in the spring of 2018.

Along for the Ride, A Few Lengths Behind

In my office, I have a framed picture of my brother, age 5, and a chubby 2-year-old me. We?re wearing matching striped railroad overalls with thick leg cuffs, holding hands, and I have a big smile. I?ve always looked up to my brother. He was the epitome of cool ? as soon as I knew what ?cool? meant ? even if he wanted nothing to do with his younger, dorky brother as we got older. If anything, that made him cooler.
Even in our teen years, when he was getting in trouble and I was getting straight A?s, I watched him admiringly from behind my textbooks, wishing I were as fearless and willing to take risks. 

A few years later, I ended up following him to the local college. With my grades, I could?ve gone somewhere more prestigious, but in my senior year of high school I ...