A new trip - Let's be O'Ryan Cruze from Tricolor

You gear your motorcycle down before pulling up to a steaming gas station in Orlando, Florida, the engine gives a satisfying rumble under your control. While you're pumping, careful not to drip gas on your amazing paint job, black with a lime green snake skeleton, a newer model economy car rolls by slowly. Cars zoom around it, but the driver only continues to creep by the gas station. The two men inside the little car can't take their eyeballs off you, so you give them the finger. Instead of laughing off their embarrassment, the typical tourist reaction for caught staring at anything or anyone too long, they keep looking. A little shudder roves over your shoulders, and the gas nozzle tinks against the opening in your tank. As the men get past a little bit, you notice the rental sticker in the back windshield. Travelers, yes, but not tourists. Something tells you they weren't here for Disney World or the Pirate Arena dinner theater.