The Harley.

You go back and forth looking over each vehicle, the cars just seem so much more practical, yet you have taken so much so far you can't help but think if you take such an expensive vehicle someone will come after you. You even go so much as to head back inside to trim down on some things, however just as your bare foot hits the floor inside, you hear the roar of an engine outside and your heart skips a beat as you begin to panic, you end all decision making right there and quietly push the door closed. “Ok, fuck it I'm out of here.” Scooping up all of the bags of things you have decided to take, you run over to the motorcycles, deciding you want as much instant speed as you can. The Harley sways your decision when you notice wind shield that you hope will offer some protection for your bare torso on the front, and ever so slightly less harsh looking foot controls for your feet to have to deal with. Quickly you unlock the saddlebags and stuff everything inside, not really caring what squishes what. Scanning the room you see of course the garage door is closed, but it doesn't take to long to spot the button that you are sure will open it. Racing around the garage you slap the button, basically running into the wall in your haste, spin on your heel, and run back over to mount the metal beast. A twist of a key and push of a button, and the engine rumbles to life. Your bare heel yells at you in protest as you kick up the kickstand, but a voice calling out, “Hey, who is in there? Wait.” Prompts you to push the forward, throttle the gas, and slip it into gear. The bike nearly leaps out from under you, but thankfully you were just soft enough on the controls, and while not a perfect start to your little road trip, you at least don't hit anything.

As you slip into the now night air, the chill hits your body instantly, and while it isn't exactly cold you know you really need to find some clothing soon. A rather large pickup truck now sits in front of the building you were just in, and you are pretty sure you hear at least two separate voices, but you don't stay long enough to see who it is. By the angle of the truck you guess it came here from the road to the left and quickly decide you might as well head that direction. You accelerate faster and faster as you race down the unknown road, hoping that nothing gets in your way topping out at about 90mph before you even realize you are going that fast. You continue like that for about a half hour before you finally relax a little, look down at the speedometer, and throttle it back to just over the speed limit sign you passed last. Another 10 minutes later you finally see a sign that indicates the city of Charlottesville. A few moments later and you spot a motel right off an exit, and figure that is as good of a place as any to go.

Questioning the man at the front desk doesn't prove all that interesting, and being on the receiving end, you aren't sure if you are flattered or pissed off at the fact that he didn't really listen to anything you were saying, just staring at your body the entire time. But you did get directions to a clothing store less than a mile away that he insists you will love, though doesn't bother to tell you the name of it. As you are quite cold, you don't argue, and just as he said it is only a mile away, taking you just a few minutes to get there. As soon as you pull up you decide, yes in fact he was an asshole. Sure it is a clothing store, as well as a store for all sorts of adult novelties, and stripper wear. “Yaay.” You blurt out with mocking enthusiasm. But you are fucking cold, and the towel clothing you are wearing, while it did survive the ride here, won't last a whole lot longer. Or do you just turn around and go find a real store?