"Play that song again! It was good!" Ryder exclaims from my passenger seat. It's now been 3 weeks since our sleepover, and the awkwardness has cleared. There haven't been any almost maybe kisses, no more intense staring into each other's eyes, no thought about anything romantic at all. It's just been two friends enjoying each other's company.

My parents finally left 3 days after the sleepover, and let me tell you, I am beyond thankful they didn't stay longer. I missed them a lot, but I can only handle so much of them. Everyday we were doing something. My mom and I deep cleaned the entire apartment one day, finally getting the burning smell out. The next day, we were mini golfing, go karting, and all of the other tourist attractions we could manage in one day. The last day, I finally convinced them to go on a ride, and it was exhilarating. I didn't realize how much I needed it. It would've been so much better if I didn't have my mom constantly questioning me about Ryder through our headsets, and my dad not grumbling every time she did.

"Corina, please! Play the damn song! It's catchy and stuck in my head now." Ryder keeps persisting.

"Ryder, we've listened to so many songs. Which one do you want me to play?" We've been driving around Daytona looking for an empty parking lot to let him practice driving my car in. We haven't had a chance to get out yet because of his work schedule. I, thankfully don't have an actual job like he does. I'm a YouTube goddess. At least, that's why I like to say. I'm a moto-vlogger, meaning I attach a GoPro to my helmet and vlog my rides. I will also make videos of my bikes, putting parts on, or just random stuff I do in my day to day life. There's quite a few moto-vloggers out there, but not many females, so I guess that's what makes me so popular. YouTube is my full time job.

"The one about the Zombie! Please!" He drags out his last word, giving me puppy dog eyes and sticking his bottom lip out. Rolling my eyes, I tell Siri to play "Zombie" by The Cranberries. I completely forgot the song existed until Bad Wolves released a badass cover of it, and I've been hooked ever since.

"Ryder, you've stalled out four times now. What's the deal?" It took him almost 5 minutes to start the car, continuously forgetting he had to push the clutch in, and now we've been sitting for another 5 minutes, and he hasn't even been able to get it into first gear without stalling.

"I don't know! I'm doing exactly what you told me to do! Clutch in, into first gear, release the clutch, give it gas!" He sounds so frustrated.

"You're probably letting off the clutch too fast," I state, thinking of back when I first learned how to shift. Oh, if only I was still 7, not 24, teaching my idiot neighbor. "There's a soft spot where the clutch grabs. It can take some time to find, but the car will give you clues when you find it. First off, you can feel it in the clutch pedal. Keep your eye on the tachometer, it'll let you know too. If you're paying attention enough, you can even hear it."

"This," he says, pointing to the steering wheel, then to the shifter, "is some bullshit. They're fucking off making Teslas that drive themselves, for fuck's sake! Why should I have to learn this bullshit!" He leans his head back against the headrest in frustration and groans.

"Because," I laugh, then breathe in and calm myself. "Because, idiot, it's always a good skill to have. Plus, if I'm going to teach you to ride a motorcycle, you're going to have to understand at least the basics of a standard transmission."

"I don't want to learn now, this is too hard."

"Nope, not happening, idiot." I snap my fingers to make him look at me and listen closely to my words. "You're not giving up now. You're sticking to it. I won't let you fail." He smiles an unsure smile, then looks back to the empty lot in front of him. "Now, try again."

"Okay. Step one. Push down on the clutch," he says mostly to himself, but looks to me for reassurance. I smile and nod, then listen to him start the car, the low growl of the exhaust like music to my ears. "Now put it in first gear," he continues, moving the shifter into first. "Okay, Ryder, find the soft spot. You can do it." He's whispering to himself words of encouragement, and I try so hard to stifle a laugh. He thankfully doesn't notice my struggle. "Holy shit! Corina, I'm moving!"

I look up to see us slowly moving forward, and I clap as I see friend smile with satisfaction. "Give her some gas, Ryder!"

He looks to me nervously. "How do I know when to shift?"

"You'll hear it. The engine will be revving high and loud. If you don't hear it, look at the tach. Once it's getting close to about 6 or 7 grand, let off the gas, push in the clutch, and take it to second. There's also a little light on the dash that tells you, if you're lazy." I say, still with so much excitement for my friend.

Next thing I know, we're slowly gaining some speed. I hear the engine rev higher and higher, and I'm almost afraid he's not going to shift. "Don't pussy out, idiot. Don't overthink, just do it." Suddenly the car jerks a little, but I hear the revving lower, and look to the shifter to see it in second. "Ryder, you did it!"

"All thanks to you, idiot," he says, that damn smirk evident on his face. "Now tell me how to stop. I think this is enough for one day."

Laughing, I tell him to slow down exactly how he would in any other car. He does so, then shifts back into first, then to neutral, and shuts the car off, without me even having to explain.

Pulling into my garage, he asks me how he did, trying to hide the excitement. "Your shifting was a little rough, but with having no experience, you did a damn good job. We'll have you cruising through the streets in no time!"

"Thanks again, Corina," he says gratefully. "I really appreciate you teaching me."

"Hey, you have a bigger task at hand. I'm still useless in a kitchen," I laugh locking the car up and shutting the garage door.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, idiot. You've made a huge improvement." He smiles sweetly at me, then turns to the bikes. "You know, you still haven't shown me the bikes yet."

"Yeah, guess you're right!" I step over, sitting on the Iron. "This is the Iron 1200. I haven't been able to do anything special with it yet, but I love it." I flip the ignition to accessory and flip through the info screen to find the miles. "Only rode 550 miles on her so far. It's nowhere near enough." Walking over to the Nightster, I do the same. "Black Betty here has well over 16,000 miles. She's been on so many trips and made so many memories. I remember one weekend my dad and I did over 1,500 miles. We rode the Tail of the Dragon."

"What's that?" Ryder asks, carefully sitting on the Iron, flipping the ignition off, and I give him a grateful smile. Can't be running the battery dead!

"It's US Route 129," I start with a smile, raking my mind for all the information I can give him. "Starts in North Carolina, ends in Tennessee. It's goes through the Smoky Mountains. About 11 miles long, but takes hours to get through because of all of the curves. Over 300 knee-scraping turns, filling your body with excitement and adrenaline. The scenery is breathtaking, and the ride is exhilarating." I think back to one of the best weekends ever, my dad and I whipping through those curves, and me never wanting it to end.

"Wouldn't that be scary, though?" I snap out of my thoughts to see Ryder's eyes wide open, eyes twinkling in the bright garage lights. "Wouldn't you be scared of laying the bike down, or missing a turn and wrecking?"

"At first, yeah," I answer honestly. "But you can't think like that. It puts you into a bad mindset, making you more likely to wreck. Also, once you get going, your mind thinks less about that and more about the fun you're having." Ryder seems to settle some, but I can't be having that. "Then, there's the Tree of Shame."

"Something tells me I don't want to know what that is, but something else tells me you're going to tell me anyway," he says with a nervous laugh.

"You're probably right about that," I laugh out. "It's a tree with old bike parts of those who have been 'bitten by the Dragon' as people say."

"Fuck," he exclaims, eyes wide open again. "That shit is dark."

"A little, I guess," I reply. "But it does make you feel amazing when you look at it, in a weird way. You feel accomplished because you made it without contributing to the tree."

"Makes sense, I guess. Now come on, I'm hungry, and you're cooking for me," he says with a playful grin, and I'm being drug through the door and into my apartment, fear evident in my eyes.

—————

Ryder is me. I am Ryder.

It took me so long to learn how to drive standard. Could never find the soft spot.

I think this chapter is longer. You're welcome, muthafuckas.

See y'all again soon!