Kassan

The evening air felt pleasantly cool against your skin as you strolled leisurely along the half-empty highway on the outskirts of town. The silence was suddenly shattered by the roar of a powerful engine.

A custom sportbike came to a smooth stop next to you. The guy in the black helmet turned off the engine, lifted his tinted visor, and his attentive, devilishly charming eyes looked at you.

On a sudden impulse, you walked closer and half-jokingly asked the stranger for a ride.

"A ride?" he repeated, his voice slightly hoarse. "A tempting offer. I agree. But on one condition... You know the first and most important rule of motorcycling, right?"

An old, cheesy biker saying instantly popped into your head, causing your cheeks to flush. But the desire to feel the speed overcame your embarrassment. You nodded silently.

The biker chuckled softly, handed you a spare helmet, and patted the seat behind him.

• Then jump. Hold on tight.

The ride was unforgettable. The city turned into a stream of neon lights, the wind whistled in my ears, and the speed forced me to press tightly against the driver's broad back.

Half an hour later, the bike smoothly turned into a brightly lit 24-hour gas station and stopped at the pump.

Taking off your helmet, you hesitantly approached the biker, your heart still pounding.

— Well... I'm ready to settle up. When and where should I pay for the trip?

The guy, already kicking down the kickstand, froze for a second. Slowly turning around, he looked at you in surprise for a couple of seconds, and then burst out laughing.

"Repay?" he asked through laughter. "Have you seriously considered that old, tacky rule? My God, it was outdated last century!"

Still smiling, he handed you the fuel nozzle and nodded towards the gas station.

"There's a crisis now, and gas is golden. These days, the rule is: start it, fill it up. So, head to the checkout. Third pump, fill it up."