Why is it that motorcycles don't like me?

Penny was sitting underneath her motorcycle in the shop, her eyebrows furrowed. The stupid thing had died on her morning drive to the store. The bike itself was black, gold, and red, basically a bike made to go fast. The 25 year old had taken off her button down shirt and was working on the bike in her black tank top. Penny had managed to get it to a shop but the men there had no idea how to fix it, so she decided she would take a look. She had grease streaks up her arm and a small spot of it on her forehead. Casually she glanced around to see if anybody was watching. Then she got out from under her motorcycle and layed her hand on the bike, closing her eyes. As if by magic the bike roared to life and Penny grinned, turning off the bike.
She picked up a few napkins and began to wipe the grease off of her arms and face. The splotches seemed to stand out more vividly on her white skin. Penny growled and marched off to the bathroom, coming back all clean. She snatched her button down shirt off the rack and pulled it on, to lazy to button it.
"You got it to work," One of the workers said. "How did you manage it?"
Penny smiled, "It just needed a light touch."
The girl had a very faint British accent when she spoke.

Ari stepped slowly over the each crack in the sidewalk, a habit formed during her childhood, due in no small part to her superstitious upbringing. It had become subconscious, to the point that if she didn't pay close attention, she wouldn't even notice. The young woman glanced down nonchalantly at the slip of paper in her hand. Several of the items written on the list on already been crossed off, and were presently in the small bag she carried in her other hand. "Why can't she just get all of this stuff herself? She isn't THAT old." Ari complained to herself. After walking around for what felt like hours, Ari sat down on a bench. With a heavy sigh, Ari glanced back at the list. "This is getting ridiculous. It figures that I had to come to this area, I've never even been here before." Ari glanced around again, noticing a small motorcycle repair shop. Ari noticed a woman was working on one of the machines, and it appeared that she knew what she was doing. Ari smiled slightly, if only for the fact that she was mildly impressed. Ari barely knew what a motorcycle was, let alone how to work on one. Upon the woman's return from the restroom, she appeared to be all cleaned up. Ari overheard the man talking to the woman, saying that she "got it to work". Which, of course, implied that she had repaired it herself in some way. All the more impressive.

Ari approached the building, her natural curiosity getting the better of her. At the very least, she could ask for some directions and figure out just where she had to go to get the last couple items. Upon reaching the open door, Ari entered cautiously, glancing around the room. It was certainly a different kind of place than what she was accustomed to seeing. Several machines and pieces to them. Various parts and fluids that all belonged to, or were used in conjunction with the various machines were all over the place. Ari glanced to the older woman, a polite smile forming on her face. "Hello there, did you repair this machine? Was there something wrong with it?" The young woman asked curiously, hoping that she wasn't being too intrusive. In honesty, Ari didn't like just asking strangers things without at least getting a feel for who they were first. If they answered her first questions politely, she felt okay with asking for directions, the time, whatever. However, if they answered rudely, she would just walk away and avoid that person. Ari was always picky that way. The young woman's accent would sound sort of like a blending of French Creole with a sort of Caribbean twist. Most Americans assumed she was Jamaican or something.

Penny was replacing tools when a girl walked in , looking around at the cars, tools, and equipment. The ruckus of the workshop had resumed again and the girl approached Penny with a look of curiosity on her face. By this time Penny was sitting on her bike, the paint gleaming under her.
"Yeah I did fix it, this bike broke down this morning while I was riding it. " Penny shrugged, her fingers tapping against the handle bars lightly. Her fingers beating out a beat of quarter notes. Penny was rather musical and her tapping came as second nature.
"Think one of the gears got stuck," She flashed a smile, "But it works now, so we are good."
Penny's tones were soft and polite. The girl rubbed the bike fondly before twisting her watch around her wrist. The face caught the light briefly reflecting off the surface before it was spun around again. A simple silver band was around the girls middle finger on her left hand.