"Okay." That growly voice is turning her to butter. She lifts one leg up and
over and slides onto the back of the hi-rider seat, which is just high enough 
for her to see over Ripsaw’s shoulders. The bike never moves, never sways, like
it’s planted in stone, till she’s settled in her seat. Then, the engine rumbles,
briefly revving, and the chopper rolls around in a smooth half circle, then 
starts accelerating up the road, running straight as an arrow.