"Allen switch on the ignition and turws the throttle and opened the clutch. He pushed up the kickstand and pused his beck backwards out of the parking space. He turned the hanle bars and placed the bile in gear and raised his brown leather bllt covered foot in the foot rests. Allen pulled into the street as there was not much traffic and drove as May directed. The apartment comples was only two blocks away. It was a coverted Motel 8.<br/><br/>He enter the complex that he was familiar with. The neighborhood he knew like the back of his hand. He was born only a block away. His mother was a prostitute and bike chick. His father was a founding mother of the bike club and ran the business of bike repair and restoration shop. The shop was only a mile away.<br/><br/>Allen passed the mail box and office on their right.<br/><br/>"May, what apartment?"