Mustang & Smoker
Smoker
You ever drive through the city at midnight and feel the streets like a jazz track, the lights pulsing like a bass line?
Mustang
Yeah, that’s my kind of night – the city’s pulse syncs with the road and every neon flicker feels like a bass hit. Let's hit the highway.
Smoker
Let’s ride until the horizon forgets where the city ends.
Mustang
You bet, let’s hit the open road and see where the horizon takes us.
Smoker
The highway’s an old sax solo, rough edges and a promise of somewhere quiet. Let’s follow it.
Mustang
Sounds like the perfect solo – let’s crank it up and chase that quiet.