photo via raysmithinc.com

Attached to every text message Mark sends is the phrase, “Harleys Rule.” I know this because I told him he’d won the Lil’ Wayne tickets via text message late Saturday morning.

We decided to meet in two hours at the corner of 16th and Church, “Because I been there before and that’s how long it’ll take to get there on my bike,” he says.

Exactly two hours to the tick later, Mark’s standing in the street next to his bike, a jet-black Harley with jagged silver handlebars stuck in its center like an antenna. He’s at least 50, scars mingling amongst wrinkles, greasy black hair tucked into a skull-patterned bandanna, 12-inch metal chain dangling from his hip and a thick salt and pepper stripe of mustache across his pock-marked face. He slips the tickets into the pocket of his leather vest without a glance and says, “thank you good buddy.”

I’m having trouble seeing this dude singing along with “Mrs. Officer” so I muster the courage to ask him the obvious: “So, you’re a big Lil Wayne fan?” He swings his leg over the bike and tightens the helmet strap across his chin, letting the question hang in the air for a moment, “Nope,” he says, in a blue-collar baritone, ”….but my 22 year old black girlfriend sure is.”  He winks, and speeds off.