The roar of a motorcycle pierced the dark night, where an illegal race unfolded in tense chaos. A 14-year-old boy named Ethan was abandoned after his gambling family lost their debts, with debt collectors chasing him like wild beasts. Big Mike, a towering biker with military tattoos and the owner of a repair shop, suddenly intervened, blocking the path with a screeching halt, his Harley kicking up dust. “Back off!” he bellowed at the pursuers, scooping Ethan onto the bike and speeding to the safety of his workshop. Instead of turning him over to the authorities, Mike glanced down and asked, “Hungry, kid? Come inside.”
Ethan found refuge in the shop, a safer haven than anywhere he’d known before. Mike didn’t pry into his past, simply offering bread and teaching him to hold a wrench. Clumsy at first, Ethan gradually learned from a group of long-haul racing bikers: Racer taught him off-road driving, Doc showed him basic first aid, and Luna gifted him a sturdy old helmet. Six months later, Mike asked, “Got anywhere else to go, kid?” Ethan shook his head. Mike replied, “Keep the room clean. Inspectors don’t like messes.” And just like that, he had a temporary home.
Mike insisted Ethan attend school, driving him there each morning on his Harley, undeterred by the wary glances from other parents. After classes, Ethan worked in the shop. On Sundays, the biker group hosted meals, checking his homework and encouraging him to strive. “You’re smart,” Mike noted when he saw Ethan reading a vehicle design blueprint. “You can do more than just be a mechanic like me.” Ethan replied, “Being like you is already great.” Mike grinned, “Then let’s make you greater. We’re getting you to school, kid!” The group pooled money for Ethan’s technical education, and when he became a renowned race car engineer, they threw a wild celebration that shook the neighborhood.
Ethan joined a luxury car design company, living among the elite, rarely mentioning his past. When asked about family, he’d say his parents were no longer around. Mike attended Ethan’s graduation, wearing a suit paired with motorcycle boots, but Ethan introduced him as a “family friend” out of embarrassment in front of colleagues. Mike stayed silent, gave him a tight hug, and muttered, “Proud of you, son,” before riding home alone.
Three months ago, a major motorcycle manufacturing corporation targeted the shop’s land, using tactics like cutting power and vandalism to pressure Mike into selling—a property tied to 40 years of his life. “Get some legal help,” Ethan suggested hastily. Mike sighed, “I can’t afford it. They’re tearing us apart, kid.” Ethan hesitated, and Mike hung up. That night, the achievements on the wall felt like a reprimand. Ethan’s resolve hardened—enough was enough.
At a nearby car exhibition, Ethan stepped out, dressed in a sharp suit, his face glowing with the confidence of a successful young man—someone many admired.
The race car he designed gleamed behind him. Suddenly, a corporate thug approached, sneering, “Your old man’s shop is done—sign the land over!” Ethan’s eyes flashed. “Not a chance,” he shot back, shoving past to the ruined shop. Inside, Mike was cornered by enforcers demanding papers. Ethan burst in, blueprint in hand, shouting, “Step away from him!”
The room tensed as he faced them down. Mike looked surprised: “Forget something, engineer?” Ethan replied, “Forgot who I am—your family.” Now, he uses his skills to fight the corporation, sleeps in the shop again, and plans to transform it into a legal racing center. The bikers call him “the house engineer,” while Mike, with proud eyes, whispers, “That’s my boy.” Ethan wasn’t saved by the system, but by the biker who pulled him from danger—now it’s his turn to fight for him.
