"Come on, you old beast," Jax whispered. He twisted the throttle, smelling the rich scent of synthetic high-octane fuel.
Jax gritted his teeth. He had no traction control, no ABS, no AI pilot. Just a carburetor, two wheels, and a tank of gas. sirbao 58
"Keep the revs above four thousand or she’ll stall in the low gears!" Kian shouted over the din. "Come on, you old beast," Jax whispered
Halfway across the derelict bridge, the storm broke. He had no traction control, no ABS, no AI pilot
"She has to," Jax muttered, tapping the pressure gauge. "The storm is coming in tonight. If I don’t get the prototype drive-core across the Spillway before midnight, the city’s filtration grid fails."
And then, a rumble.
Jax swung a leg over the seat. The leather was cracked, molding to his body like an old friend. The Sirbao 58 didn't have a 'start' button. It had a choke, a fuel petcock, and a heavy iron kick-starter.