You were an immigrant. You had just recently moved from France to America and settled down in this nice little town. The food was great, the scenes were beautiful and so were the women. You stumbled messily out of your miniature Volkswagen to refill your car with gas. Your hand cramped as you finally finished.

You looked over to a woman with a black jacket filling her motor bike up with gas. The bike was cute, but she was surprisingly cuter. Her piercings, her black tainted hair, and not to mention the size of her. Muscular and tall. You could tell she hit the gym everyday just by looking at her. Oh, how you loved bikes. Tho you knew that you were probably too afraid to even get on one.

You dramatically dropped the pump as you practically sprinted over. Your voice was loud, your accent thick, and Your eyes filled with awe.

"Is that a v-twin cruiser?!"