001 - Junk Yard Scramble

Alright, dig this. Two ring-a-ding dingers, right?  These cats are wailin' through this scrap heap outside of Taree. Dust devils kickin' up red dirt, sun beatin' down like a bastard. These blokes are elbow to elbow, those two-strokes singin' that high-pitched European scream.

See 'em leanin' into the ruts, suspension pumpin' like crazy over busted washing machines and rusted-out Holdens. You can smell that premix burnin' clean, that sharp, oily tang. One's got a faded red tank, the other's got that classic yellow. They ain't pretty, but they're pure grit, these two strokes. Flat out, no quarter given. This ain't no Sunday cruise; this is a goddamn dust-up.