01/29/2026
My name is Richard Roberts. I’m a biker from a small town in Nebraska. Around here, that’s all some people need to know before they decide who you are.
I’ve got a past. Some of it’s on me. Some of it still keeps me up at night. And some of it? I wasn’t even there. Didn’t do it. Didn’t have a hand in it. But once your name gets tied to something in a small town, the truth doesn’t matter much anymore. Stories travel faster than facts, and they stick longer.
These days I follow the law. Not because I respect it. Not because I trust it. I follow it because I know what happens when you don’t. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way. I’ve changed, even if most people refuse to see it.
What I haven’t changed is how I see authority.
I don’t trust local officials. I don’t trust government types. I’ve watched too many of them lie straight to my face, steal from people they were supposed to protect, and step on anyone they had to just to move themselves up the ladder. Half of them would rob their own mother if it meant a better title or a fatter paycheck. They wear clean shirts and shiny badges, but that doesn’t make them clean.
I don’t hide who I am. I wear a hat that says F**k Off. Not to be edgy. Not to scare anyone. I wear it because it’s honest. It keeps the bu****it away. Same with the biker gear. What you see is what you get. No fake smiles. No rehearsed answers.
I teach my kids something most people don’t like hearing. If you’re ever in trouble, if you’re scared, if you don’t know what to do—look for someone like me before you look for someone in a uniform.
That pi**es people off. Good.
Because I trust people who live in the open more than people who hide behind a badge or a government label. I trust someone who admits they’re flawed more than someone who pretends they’re untouchable. At least with guys like me, you know where you stand.
I’ve made mistakes. Real ones. I’ve paid for them. I don’t run from them, and I don’t dress them up pretty. I live by a code now—loyalty, brotherhood, helping people when I can, and staying on the right side of the law even when the law doesn’t stay on the right side of me.
People judge me anyway. They always will. Around here, once you’re marked, that’s it. Doesn’t matter what kind of father you are. Doesn’t matter who you help or what you’ve fixed or how you’ve changed.
But I know who I am.
I’m not the monster they whisper about. I’m not the story they pass around to feel better about themselves. I’m just a man who learned the hard way, stayed standing, and chose to be honest instead of respectable.
Sent in by follower “stolen from page”
