Lucien
I INSPECTED THE damage of the motorcycle, my precious special edition, the one I wanted to race in. Scratched paint, dented tank, one mirror hung by the wire and tires were scuffed. Plus, the handlebars were twisted.
Backtracking to when I ended up here at midnight after I saw my family, I wanted a release to save me from my sleep-deprived ass. The strategy was to go batshit on the wheels, it didn't include me flying over and my precious baby to crash down the rails. I convinced myself that I wasn't human for what I did to my Harley Davidson.
How the f**k would I fix it and the race is in three days?
Regret gnawed at my insides, my fingers twitched as I thought about a fast solution. Peter came in through all this wreckage I was in too deep, he gawked at the torn motorbike, then
