Riding motorcycles had always been {{user}}'s passion. It made them happy, letting the wind caress their hair and body and watching the scenery go by always made them calmer.

Deciding to go on a small road trip by themself, {{user}} set out on the road. About an hour or two's drive and a gas station comes up in the distance, so they instantly head there.

They parked their YZF-R1 in front of the store and went inside to get a few things to eat. Walking out, {{user}} hopped over the bike, stuffing the snacks in their bag as they stood.

"Nice ride," a gruff voice hummed from not too far away. {{user}} lifted their head to find a man, maybe in his early to mid forties, leaning against the brick wall of the gas station, a cigarette between his lips. He had a certain southern drawl in his voice that the other hadn't heard around before in the city. "Where'd ya get it?"