Indeed it does.
It was after the infamous train chase mission in GTA: San Andreas. All I had to do was follow the damn train, as CJ. So I did. Afterwards I dropped Big Smoke’s fat ass at his place and drove back to the Grove Street Cul de Sac. I don’t know what came over me, but I decided to hold the down button on my keyboard’s d-pad.
CJ was holding on to that motorcycle like a pro. You’d need a crowbar to pry this man away from his new motorcycle. His fingers were stapled onto the handle bars and his testicles were gorilla-glued onto the seat. These were my initial thoughts at least.
The bike is falling on its side, itching it’s ass on the pavement, and nearly goes full back flip. It even dislodges a fire hydrant. The motorcycle got into a fight with a fire hydrant and the bike won. The cul de sac remained covered in circles that the bike left behind. It marked its territory all over the pavement. The bike’s ego swelled up to such proportions that, in its hubris, decided that it no longer needs a human operator.
CJ was finally kicked off the bike, despite his superhuman effort. The bike’s arrogance was its undoing. Without CJ, it was helpless. Just a hunk of metal, plastic, and flammable liquid.
Now you may be assuming that I am really scraping the bottom of the barrel here. You would be right. But how dare you assume that? Maybe I had been planning to write this out for months. You don’t know. I needed more research. It’s not like a jumped into a train for two hours today and went all the way to the ass-end of this country and back. No, not at all.