♠️ Neon bleeding across the asphalt, engine roaring through the midnight air, and a rider who never learned to stay still.
♠️♠️♠️ Black leather, worn gloves, and the open road beneath my wheels. I let the engine speak where words fall short, carrying every story through the city lights.
Somewhere between long rides and quiet mornings, I found my own rhythm—rough around the edges, built for the road, and never meant to be tamed.
If the night has a heartbeat, let mine sound like an engine tearing through the darkness until sunrise.
Post #292
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