The Reason I Ride [Stories]
My siblings and I had a pretty unique childhood growing up on a small family-run dairy farm in rural New York. My dad, Rudd, has always been the quiet, but steady lifeforce behind our family. I remember playing basketball in our tiny school gym — he couldn’t always make tip-off, but sure enough, I’d spot him peeking through the window halfway through the game. Being there for each other was never optional in our family; it was the rule.
I have three siblings, and our parents raised us with this core belief: come hell or high water, we back each other. At a hunting expo one year, a stranger, who thought I winked at him, tried to pick a fight. Jake and Jordan were literally directly behind me when it almost came to fists.
Dad’s approach to life often went against the grain. A cardinal rule in the Wetherwax family is to swing at the first pitch and go down swinging. This went against all the coaching advice I’d ever been taught, but you know what? It worked. That same spirit carried into the rest of his life—he wasn’t afraid to swear in church, do the right thing even when it went against the status quo, or show up to Sunday service straight from the barn, unshowered after milking cows.
There’s a famous photo of Johnny Cash when he played at Folsom prison, reaching into a crowd of inmates. It’s one of the pictures that embodies the outlaw attitude. Cash knew the system was broken but still chose to treat prisoners with respect and humanity despite their circumstances. My dad lived that same kind of radical, unapologetic love. One Easter, he invited a group of Hispanic farmhands from a neighboring farm to join our family dinner because they had nowhere else to go.
These core values are the heartbeat of Open Heart Outlaws. When Dad sold the dairy cows in 2018, he “retired” — though in truth, he kept working full-time as a garbage truck driver. Then, in December of 2023, our lives changed forever.
I got a text from my mom saying that dad was hurt. I almost didn’t believe it. My dad is practically bullet proof. A lot of accidents have happened on the farm and my mom has never sent that text out. As I was pulling into the hospital parking lot, I called my mom. I could hear the fear in her voice and that’s when I knew it was bad.
When I walked into the room, Dad’s on the bed, shivering in shock, blankets pulled up to his neck. While recounting what happened, his voice broke - and he cried. The safety mechanism on the truck failed and a dumpster swung loose, crushing him against the truck. I’d never seen my dad so vulnerable. He told us he watched that dumpster swing toward him and thought ‘this is how it’s gonna end.’ It was going to kill him. My mom tried to console him while I prayed. Sitting there in that hospital room, I knew nothing in our lives would ever be the same.
That was our ‘hell on earth.’ It’s a miracle that he survived. But in that moment, I realized something: I wanted to fight for people like my dad — the ones who never ask for help but still deserve it.
The months that followed were grueling — endless battles with insurance, workers’ comp, hospital bills, and lawyers. It wore us down, and I saw how easy it would be to just give up. You might go down swinging, but you’re still going down. That’s when I knew Open Heart Outlaws had to become a reality.
Because families like ours are everywhere. People who work hard, keep their heads down, and suddenly get blindsided by life.
Recently, we met one of those families. A young family with two middle-school aged boys lost everything in a house fire — including all of the mom’s type-1 diabetic supplies. I stood in their driveway, looking at a pile of ash and rubble where their house used to be, while their boys ran through the yard. Their dad looked me in the eye and said "Look, man. I appreciate what you're doing, but give it to somebody who needs it.”
That’s the heart of Open Heart Outlaws.
When you’re riding a motorcycle, the road isn’t always easy. Sometimes it’s pouring so hard you can’t see two feet ahead. Sometimes you blow a tire on 490 (ask me how I know). But Open Heart Outlaws exists for that exact reason — to ride with people through the storms, to stand beside families, even when it’s messy and dirty, and to give with fierce generosity.
