was in a gym that looked like the sport hall of my school. but it was a garage for sports cars and motorcycles. some old guy in a yellow polo short was the chief mechanic, other guys were working there too. the motorcycles had shabby protective covers in different colors, most yellow. very vivid. so i was looking for my ride but couldnt find it, had to look under all the covers. didn’t even know what it looked like but then remembered i had 2 harleys.
wtf never had a motorbike, can’t even drive one but in this dream i had 2 harleys. and thy were not there. so i went to the chief mechanic in the yellow polo shirt and he talked to some brown indians in another room. they were playing counterstrike on old 90s pcs and didn’t care. mechanic went back to his desk and said he had to look at the mail he got today. there were 2 letters, both ransom notes. for my harleys. written in blue comic sans like some 90s computer graphics nightmare. turned out some mexicans had stolen my harleys. no idea why they went to the otherside of the globe for that. not russians or poles, nope, mexicans had stolen my fuckin harleys.

chief mechanic did the only reasonable thing and got his mossberg shotgun from under the desk and we went to hunt the thieves. on harleys ofc. next scene we were driving through some mexican slum, as motorcycle gang, the mechanic with his shotgun and me with my ar15 and several other heavy armed biker guys. thinking about it now it looked cringe af but in the dream we were relly cool. all the mexians ran away when they saw us. we caught beat and questioned some people at gunpoint but found nothing. then we were back at the garage again and the mechanic got some new letters from the mexican goernment that had polaroids of dead mexicans saying they were the guys that stole my harleys and they were killed by police. didn’t get my harleys back but the thieves were dead. felt good but man i don’t wanna end up as a middle aged harleyfag one day. pls shoot me first