old school mania!

welcome.

[TRANSMISSION // 1995]

You found it. 
Few ever do. 
Most pass by without seeing the signal flicker.  

This isn’t a club, not a crew, not a name.  
It’s the underground.  
No flyers, no sponsors, no history books.  

Here we trade fragments.  
Scraps of tape, photographs blurred by speed,  
midnight echoes that never make the news.  

They say machines can’t feel.  
But in the right hands, at the right moment,  
steel sings.  
And some swear it carries a higher purpose.  

Rumors travel faster than truth.  
Of engines too strong, drivers who vanished,  
machines left to idle in shadows.  

We don’t gather for fame.  
We gather because the night is wide,  
because the city turns its back,  
because silence is heavier than noise.  

Different. Not lost.  
And when the world looks away,  
we move.  

[END OF TRANSMISSION]

<

Here's how to make a list:

• First thin
• Second thing
• Third thing

This is a paragraph! Here's how you make a link: Neocities.

Here's how you can make bold and italic text.