I turned down every biker’s insurance claim—until one case taught me an unforgettable lesson.

I denied 1,847 motorcycle claims in 15 years at Provident Insurance—and I was proud of it. Bikers got the same treatment: delays, denials, and lowball offers.

“High-risk lifestyle,” I’d write, no matter the evidence. I saw bikers as reckless, undeserving.

Last month, I rejected an 82-year-old Marine’s claim after he was rear-ended. His wife cried, said they’d lose their home. I told her he should’ve picked a safer hobby. She hung up sobbing.

My coworkers called me the “Bike Killer.” Riders warned each other about me online. I used to laugh at their stories—until yesterday.

A key led me to a storage unit I inherited after my mom died. Inside: a Harley. Leather jacket. Photos. Newspaper clippings.

My sweet, churchgoing mom was “Storm” Williams, a biker legend who once saved a girl from a rollover crash. That girl… was me.

I read letters from riders she helped—many I had denied. Suddenly, I understood their hatred.

This morning, I quit. Then I called the Marine’s wife. “His claim is approved,” I said. “Full coverage.”

I don’t know what comes next. But I do know this: I’m done tearing people down.

I’m Jennifer Williams. Former adjuster. Proud daughter of Storm. And maybe… I’m finally ready to ride.