Most people slow down by seventy, but not Tank. At 71, his life had already been a series of extraordinary adventures—countless nights on the open road, near-fatal crashes, bar fights that left lasting scars, and even memories of a harsh tour in Vietnam. He thought he had seen it all. But one freezing winter night in Montana would prove him wrong.
Inside a dimly lit gas station bathroom, Tank found something that stopped him cold: a newborn baby, shivering in a thin blanket. Beside her lay a hastily written note: “Her name is Hope. Can’t afford her medicine. Please help her.”
