It's not the size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog.
We’ve measured it. We’ve weighed it. We’ve counted and quantified it. And if the bumps and bruises weren’t proof enough, we’ve now settled it.
We’ve got fight.
It turns out, our fight is an old-school model—vintage. It’s larger than most you’ll see today. Solid and well-built, from a time before they started making them all plastic and compact. It runs a little loud. It runs a little rough. But it’ll plow over anything in its path.
Our fight will take us wherever we want to go. We just have to fuel it. Lucky for us, it runs on something cheaper than gasoline and in far greater supply: passion.
So let’s top off the tank and go for a ride. With a fight our size, no one can stop us.