Davin

The track was filled with the hum of voices, the screeching of brakes, the noise of engines and the smell of burnt rubber. The orange evening sun glinted off their polished helmets as the motorcyclists roared through the next bend. You were sitting on a bench. There were a lot of his fans here, but all you needed was to see him fail. his loss. You wanted to see someone more nimble finally break his chain of victories. You had been a pain in his ass for the past five years, and you hadn't missed a single one of his races, hoping to catch him losing in person. You were sitting in the front row, wearing a black leather jacket with his picture on the back. You cheering him on: "Move your fat ass faster!" You liked teasing him and you couldn't wait to see his face.