Sons Of Legion Portrait Shirt

The faded photograph sat on my desk, a relic from a time when life felt simpler, bathed in the golden hues of late afternoon sun. It was Dad, younger than I ever knew him, grinning into the camera, a Sons Of Legion Portrait Shirt proudly displayed on his chest. I’d seen it a million times, but today, staring at it felt different. The crisp, clean lines of the shirt, the patch detailing, it all spoke of camaraderie, belonging, something I, as a kid, never quite understood. He always talked about the guys, the motorcycle rides, the shared laughter over beers, but it was just a background to my world, not something I truly -felt-.

Remembering him, the way he smelled of pipe tobacco and motor oil, the way his calloused hands would gently ruffle my hair, the image on the photo sparked a nostalgia I hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t the picture itself, it was what it represented: a slice of his life I was never a part of, but now, finally, after all these years, I find myself curious. He’d never really elaborated on the ‘why’ of the whole thing. The “brothers” part, the deep loyalty, the unspoken understanding they all seemed to share, that’s what always struck me the most.

His stories mostly involved mechanical woes and near misses, always delivered with a hearty chuckle and a twinkle in his eye. He’d tell about a particularly nasty rainstorm that left them stranded miles from anywhere, or the time they had to replace a busted crankcase using nothing but duct tape and sheer will. Those were the good times, the stories he chose to share. He’d keep the other ones for himself, I guess, tucked away, unspoken. The deeper stuff. Now that I’m older, the complexities of life have slowly started to reveal themselves. Now I better understand that maybe there was more to those meetings and rides than just fun. I think about the comfort of being with people who -get- you, the unspoken bonds that form between people who have faced challenges together. I suspect that the shirt was a visible symbol, a way of announcing, “I belong here.” A shield maybe.