Chuuya X Motorcycle Novels & Stories

Ry shrugged, and he wasn't even giving Judah his full attention. "I was hoping to get a sleeve done someday. But it's probably not gonna be for a while. I'm putting all my money on my bike right now," Judah was still enthusiastic in his replies. "You ride?" Ryder's eyes lit up all of a sudden. Oh, right. Ryder was also into bikes. For the first time this entire dinner, Ryder actually looked enthused. "Yeah, a 1993 Ducati Monster. I parked it outside," "Oh, dude, that's a classic," his voice warmed up.

I explain. The loud roar of a motorcycle engine catches my attention, and I look towards the source of the noise. It’s a guy driving through a few cars with a motorcycle clearly different from mine. He has a helmet on, and his face is hidden. His motorcycle is nice and seems expensive, but mine is one of a kind, and very elite. There are only sixteen models made. “Damn.” I say as I switch the phone to my other ear. “What?” He asks. “My motorcycle, my precious baby.” I whine, causing Chad to laugh.

, Rex said snidely, what was his problem with me now. "Shut it up Rex, you're just jealous that Nox and Vixen did better than you and Yuri.", Mariana replied back at him, crossing her hands on her chest. "At least we're not using some illegal thing unlike these idiots.", Yuri shouted back at us and I told Mariana to just shake it off and tell her and everyone to celebrate all of our test today in Crystal Zilch which is a popular bar in our region. They cheered at me and with that we left our school stationary building, I went into my new Tron Bike XR2 which is the super speed motorcycle. Grabbing the glasses thing and wear it, it detects my iris and automatically extended to be a helmet. I t

He seemed to think they weren't worth the risk. Jay was already on his chopper when I emerged from the bar-come-restaurant, the matt black machine having been built by his own hands. He was extremely proud of it, as he should be. The thing was a beast! My Yamaha, on the other hand, was sleek and smooth and silver. I had threatened to paint it pink in one of my girlie phases, but Jay had pitched such a fit that I quickly abandoned the idea.

She only heard about tomahawk steak, wondering what the guy beside Jared said. Jared squinted his eyes and was too lazy to answer her question. He did not get proper sleep for the past few days and felt grumpy. Dodge Tomahawk was the most extreme motorcycle produced by the Truman family in Mecrounia. The vehicle could reach a maximum speed of over 600 km/h, which was considered the limit for all motorcycles and land-based vehicles.

It would take Laura several days to get back to him and Tynan used that time to do his stealthy research on her background and past using the information he learned about her. The first thing Tynan learnt about was the type of bike Felix was. A Honda Rally was a dual-sport motorbike that could be used legally on the streets and off-road. It could also be used to enter some motorcycle races. Laura was right about it being on the smaller side but when Tynan took his time to dig into the technical details of this bike, he understood why Laura loved it so much. In fact, the bike resembled the owner. For something so small, it was very powerful and it reminded him about the little spitfire inside

she prodded, her voice as chilly as a winter in Aspen. “From a Mrs. Giorgia Bianco.” Once the name dropped, all hell broke loose. Slapping the clipboard way, Sasha marched outside into the circular driveway and found a shiny black Ducati limited edition vintage motorcycle parked right next to the fountain. The scream that erupted from her lips almost pierced everyone’s eardrums and made all the nearby birds fly away.

It’s a corrugated tin shack, leaning precariously against a retaining wall. I rip the door open. Inside, sitting under a tarp, is a motorcycle. It’s not a chopper. It’s a sleek, matte-black sport bike. A Ducati. Fast. Agile. A Reaper's bike. I shove the documents inside my leather jacket—the one Drakon gave me back at the motel, which I miraculously still have—zipping it up to my chin. I jam the key into the ignition. It turns. The dashboard lights up. I hit the starter.

The crowd noise dropped by several degrees. The Hayabusa. Suzuki's 1999 superbike, six units produced globally, five of them damaged beyond recovery. One remaining. The single most sought-after collector's motorcycle in the world, and the one that every serious rider with serious money had tried and failed to locate for the better part of two decades. The owner had no public profile. No known contacts. The bike existed in the category of things that people in this world spent years chasing and never found. Zachary caught the helmet one-handed without looking at it.

His cold demeanor faded a little, too. "Wow, this is a beautiful bike!" Larissa walked over and started to caress the motorcycle. Camy screamed, "Get your dirty hands off it!" Larissa looked around and asked innocently, "Is this bike expensive? Am I not allowed to touch it?" Camy looked at the plain-looking woman in front of her. She sneered, "This isn't a bike you can buy even if you had the money. There are only 100 units globally. "Every year, they would only accept orders for one unit. Every part of this motorcycle is handmade. If you break anything, they won't have a replacement for it!"