"PAJEETS could be here" she thought, "I've never been in this neighborhood before. There could be PAJEETS anywhere." The cool wind felt good against her bare chest. "I HATE PAJEETS" she thought. Sweet Dreams are Made of These reverberated her entire bike, making it pulsate even as the $9 wine circulated through her powerful thick veins and washed away her (merited) disdain of street shitters after dark. "With a bike, you can go anywhere you want" she said to herself, out loud.