1993 SUZUKI GSXR 1100 WP
A lone beacon of white-hot reality emerges from the sprawling underworld

SHE WAS THE FATTEST CAT IN THE ALLEY, BUT MOVED LIKE THUNDER WHEN THE DINNER BELL RANG.

The hum of the hydro-engine gridlock scabs the twisted face of the long run super-highways. A unending march of electrical cages transporting quaint smiling hypocrisy. Ever related to a system bent on eradicating the final vestiges of freedom.

A lone beacon of white-hot reality emerges from the sprawling underworld. The lengthy misplaced garages of off-grid hyper punks conserving the way in which of the piston alive at midnight way forward for completely sane.

KEEPING LEGENDS ALIVE WAS HER ONLY TRUE RACE, AND THE PODIUM, A WIDE-OPEN BURN.

She wields a repurposed Hayabusa front-end like a gleaming sword within the night time, her reply to the howls of criddler lots. Classic Yosh rears and Magura levers plant little Johnny behind the yoke. Holding legends alive was her solely true race, and the rostrum, a wide-open burn.

SHE MAY NOT BE TRUE GP, BUT WE LET HER KEEP HER SECRETS.

LED matrix bodywork adorned her customized Airtech traces, simply to pay the payments. She stored her laser etched EBC rotors coated with full-fitted shields, she will not be true gp, however we let her preserve her secrets and techniques