Intro: Along the way, a strange mechanic teaches Leo a truth. ------------------------------- I met him where the dust turned silver In a junkyard full of maybe's and sparks He was welding dreams together, one gear at a time, singing like the world was a machine he could fix. He didn’t ask who I was. Just wiped his hands, looked at my boots, and said "You ever wonder if you're the one carrying the engine... or if it’s carrying you?" Fuel for the fire you don’t find it in fate. You build it from rusted parts and stubborn faith. Fuel for the fire not magic, not chance. Just vision, and dirty hands. He pulled a tarp and there she was A bike made of lightning and leftover plans. Steel ribs, chrome bones, grip like prophecy. “She ain’t pretty,” he said, “but she wants to move.” He handed me the keys like they were my own past, remixed into motion. "No map. Just go. And remember every tool you need was once a broken piece." I rode for miles without asking why Every sound of the engine was louder than doubt. I wasn’t dreaming I was building speed. Not building anymore, Just moving through the path. Fuel for the fire you don’t wait for a spark. You strike it, shape it, burn through the dark. Fuel for the fire not magic, not chance. Just vision, and dirty hands. And still… I’m just getting started.
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