The motorbike turned to face the corner of the street, and you swear, disorientation notwithstanding, you saw sparks shoot out from underneath the tires like fireworks. Sharp screeches pierced the air. The bike roars down the twisty road, making sharp curves every few seconds while the breeze rips through your hair.

Road bumpy and uneven, with rubber covering debris, and the engine revving faster and louder, you feel like your senses were slipping out of your grasp.

“You doing alright back there?”

Your driver, Joe, or as everyone called him, simply J, turned back for a minute, his gaze tearing away from the road with reckless abandon. He laughed through the fire-patterned helmet at your expression, and gripped tightly, even though he had no intention to hold down the brakes.

You could barely process anything in this intense ‘joyride’, and saw nothing but blurring colors.. With all the neon signs and lights up, it only messed up your senses more. Despite that, Joe persisted as he laughed heartily, driving on.