Bikeriders Serenade

Two Years Strong

Two Years Strong

The early morning light filtered through the window, casting soft shadows on the walls. Austin lay there for a moment, his mind quiet but alive with thoughts. Today marked two years sober. It wasn’t just another day—it was a milestone, one that represented countless battles fought and won.

He had thought long and hard about how to mark the occasion. This time, it wasn’t about celebrating with others. This moment was for him, a personal reminder of the journey that had brought him to this point. A new tattoo felt right. Something he could see every day, something that would speak to the part of him that had decided not to give up.

The Ride to the Tattoo Shop

As Austin climbed onto his vintage Harley-Davidson, the familiar rumble of the engine beneath him sent a surge of energy through his body. The bike had been with him through so much—his journeys, his recovery, and his rediscovery of life beyond addiction. He kicked it into gear, feeling the powerful hum beneath him, like an extension of his own will to keep moving forward.

The streets of Los Angeles were alive, the sound of cars passing by as he rode along the freeway. The wind whipped against his face, the smell of the morning air mingling with the faint scent of gasoline. Every roar of the engine echoed in his chest, grounding him in the present moment, as if the rhythm of the bike’s engine matched the steady beating of his own heart.

The traffic around him blurred, but his focus was clear. He was on his way to the tattoo shop—a destination that felt like more than just a place. It was a symbol of the next step in his journey, a permanent reminder of what he had survived and what he had yet to accomplish.

Inside the Tattoo Shop

The bell chimed softly as Austin walked into the tattoo shop, the smell of disinfectant and fresh ink thick in the air. The faint hum of tattoo machines filled the room, blending with the low, soothing murmur of rock music playing in the background.

Austin took a deep breath, his senses heightened. The smell reminded him of transformation—a place where ideas became permanent, where stories were etched into skin. His heart raced slightly, not from fear, but from the anticipation of adding another chapter to his story, one that would be written in ink.

He greeted the tattoo artist with a nod, explaining the design one last time. A semicolon intertwined with an arrow—symbols of resilience, of moving forward even in the face of doubt or hardship. Beneath it, he’d have the words "Stay True" inked as a personal mantra, a promise to himself to remain authentic in the years ahead.

The Tattoo Process

As the needle touched his skin, Austin felt the familiar sting, a sensation he had come to appreciate. Each line drawn was a reminder of the battles he had fought—against addiction, depression, and anxiety. The semicolon, for those dark moments where he could have stopped, but chose not to. The arrow, pushing him forward, constantly moving toward something better.

His mind wandered back to those early days, when the weight of alcohol dependency had nearly broken him. The numbing effect it provided had been both a curse and a false comfort, masking the deeper struggles he had with depression and anxiety. For years, he had worn a mask, hiding his pain behind a confident smile. But the truth couldn’t be hidden forever, and when he finally broke, it felt like his life was falling apart.

The tattoo buzzed on his arm, pulling him back into the present. He could still remember the night he decided to seek help. That turning point wasn’t just about admitting defeat—it was about choosing to live. Now, two years later, he had found strength in sharing his story, in being open about his struggles. His vulnerability had become his strength.