Suddenly you find yourself on the back of a huge motorcycle roaring down a narrow street at night at a hundred miles an hour. Theresa seems to have a death wish, and you have a sitting safely in a bar wish. Suddenly Theresa stops.
"Hey," she says, "You wanna go hang out at my place? I got a bottle of bourbon back home."
"What about Spike?" you ask.
"What are you, some sort of wimp?" asks Theresa.