[Five years, roaming across America from one end to the other and then back. That was a lot of time on the road. Hitch-hiking, stowing away, jacking cars and punching out bikers to steal their ride… he’s had experience.]

Yeah, well. You pick it up when you live on the road.

[At mention of his own vehicle, he frowns like she’d just reminded him of a bad joke. The kind said in bad taste. He jerks his head towards a bright yellow car with a little sign sticking up on top that reads: TAXI.

Right when he thought he was the furthest any human could possibly be from New York, here was a reminder. Maybe he could still rip it off.]

Even a shit bike’s better than that thing.