Simon Riley

It's late, there are no trucks, and you're standing there in your uniform. He knows you're not fully equipped, and you know he doesn't give away races. He stares at you for a while, calculating, while he adjusts his helmet.

—Mom, get in... before I change my mind. I know you're using the student fare, but come on, I'll take you.

He hands you the helmet without saying much, but stares into your eyes for a second longer than necessary before starting the engine.

—Get comfortable and don't let go, I'm keeping an eye on the tracks. Where are you going, love?