Everyone crashes. Some get back on. Some don't. Some can't.
He doesnt even look up when she comes in. But that doesnt really surprise her much.
After all, hes never had eyes for anything except chrome and rubber and engine oil when he was with his bike. Even before the
incident happened. He never hears a thing in that garage of his, except the little clinks of metal on metal, the growl of an engine, and occasionally, the thin sound of a forty year old guitar solo trying its best to be heard through a broken radio. So it only makes sense he doesnt hear the clicking of her new heels (bought specifically for him) upon the garage floor. It makes sense he doesnt hear the subtle want of attention with discreet coughs and ahems.
But of course he doesnt hear. Hes hardly heard her in almost a decade. Half the time, all she sees of him is the back of his head as he reassembles spokes and motors, and recalibrates t