Wounded Machine Reinforced Jacket

There comes a time in everyones life when you just have to say.. Fuck it.
Your mid life crisis on full blast. We don't blame you. Night City is a terrible mistress. 
Aging here feels different. Another year feels like a cenutry at times. 
But anyhow, here you are. Winding out the tach as you scream down the roads. 
Feeling alive again, for the first time in fifteen years. What a buzz. What bliss.
It's only when you put on your helmet and don your wounded machine reinforced jacket you really feel...fine for a split moment. No problems. Just you and the machine. In synch. 
Braaaaaap, braaaaaaaaaap, braaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap. All. Night. Long!
It's beautiful. Poetic even. The sight of you coming around a corner, rears sliding out like one of those old world racers. Ah, such greatness. If only for a short while...