In Syracuse, the seventeen y/o teen had stopped at a gas station to refuel his motorcycle. He carefully pumped the gas into the tank, making sure he didn't scratch the bike or over-draft the gas.
He didn't want to damage or dirty his baby, after all. He heard a whistle from behind him and smiled.
But when he turned, instead of meeting eyes with a chick, it was a man in a plaid shirt and jeans ogling at his bike.
"Nice ride, kid. That's a classic, too. How much did you get that for?"
Cory was disappointed yet again by the attention he was getting for his motorcycle. He had expected to catch all the women with his new ride, but it was primarily men looking at his bike with envy.
His face turned slightly sour inside his helmet, but since only his eyes were visible behind his lifted visor, the man couldn't tell.
