Since then, going out for a ride once a day was already considered her showing restraint.
More often than not, Mavuika would set out after breakfast and not return until evening.
Sometimes on a whim, she'd even spend the whole day roaming around, not even coming back for lunch.
Howard and Maria had grown accustomed to this; the sun goddess clearly possessed energy and curiosity far beyond ordinary people.
In just two weeks, she had already ridden on most of the main roads in upstate New York and had even begun exploring more distant states.
"She said today she wanted to see the Grand Canyon," Maria said to Howard one evening at dinner with a smile.
"That's over two thousand miles one way."
Howard nearly choked on his soup: "She's not actually planning to ride her motorcycle there, is she?"
"She said if the road conditions are good, she could get there in three days," Maria's tone held both amazement and a trace of worry.
It wasn't worry for Mavuika's safety, but worry about whether that motorcycle could withstand such a long journey.
While Mavuika spent her days happily and fulfillingly, Tony was the same, though of course, he was only fulfilling—whether he was happy or not was another matter...
That day was the second day after Mavuika got the motorcycle.
Tony was in his private workshop at the Stark Industries Manhattan headquarters, debugging a newly designed circuit board.
The workshop was cluttered with various instruments, parts, and half-finished projects; the air carried the mixed scent of soldered metal and machine oil.
Suddenly, his personal assistant Pepper Potts—a blonde, efficient woman who always managed to clean up the various messes Tony left behind—contacted him via the internal comms system.
"Mr. Stark, there's a lady here to see you downstairs," Pepper's voice held a hint of subtle uncertainty.
"She says... you promised to help her fix her vehicle."
Tony put down the multimeter in his hand and frowned: "Fix a vehicle? What vehicle? I haven't promised anyone recently..."
His words cut off abruptly.
An image flashed through his mind: the afternoon sun in front of the Villa, a red motorcycle, a woman with gold-and-red hair, and him patting his chest saying, 'If you ever have any problems with your bike, just come find me, I promise I'll fix it for you.'
"Damn it..." Tony muttered a curse under his breath: "No way?"
Ten minutes later, Tony met Mavuika in the underground parking garage of the Stark Industries building.
She wore simple jeans and a leather jacket, her gold-and-red hair tied back in a neat ponytail, a smile on her face that said 'I'm here to collect on that promise.'
Beside her, the fiery red motorcycle stood quietly, but upon closer look, the rear wheel was clearly not right.
"Tony!" Mavuika greeted him, her tone as casual as if they'd run into each other at a café: "Good to see you again."
Tony walked over to the motorcycle and crouched down to inspect the rear wheel.
After just one glance, his expression became quite a sight.
There were three obvious gashes on the tire's sidewall, so deep you could almost see the inner cord layer.
Several small stones and pieces of glass were embedded in the tread, and worst of all, near the rim was a triangular puncture that looked like it had been pierced by something sharp.
"It's only the second day..." Tony looked up, his voice full of disbelief.
"How did you... I mean, how did this even happen?"
He stood up, hands on his hips, looking at Mavuika: "Did you ride this thing up a mountain of knives? How did it get punctured like this?"
Mavuika showed no embarrassment; instead, she smiled brightly, her amber eyes sparkling under the dim parking garage lights.
"Oh, it's been too long since I last rode, got a bit of an itch," she said dismissively, making a gesture: "Just went for a bit of off-roading."
"'A bit of off-roading'?" Tony repeated the phrase, his tone full of skepticism.
"A 'bit of off-roading' can do this to a tire? You didn't ride it through a construction site, over rebar and broken glass, did you?"
Mavuika shrugged, offering no detailed explanation.
In truth, she had indeed tried some 'unconventional' routes yesterday, including a section of abandoned railroad bed, a beach littered with gravel, and a road under construction.
To her, these were all part of the exploration. As for the motorcycle's endurance... she admitted she might have gotten a bit overexcited.
Tony looked at Mavuika's innocent expression, then at the battered tire, and finally sighed.
He pursed his lips, not pressing further. He figured asking probably wouldn't get him a straight answer anyway.
"Alright," Tony said, patting the motorcycle's seat.
"Leave it to me. I'll have it fixed in ten minutes. Wait outside for a bit."
He called over two technicians from the maintenance shop and had them wheel the motorcycle onto a dedicated lift.
Tony operated it himself, his movements skilled—unlike someone raised in pampered luxury.
Removing the hub, taking off the tire, checking the rim, fitting a new tire, inflating it, balancing... the whole process was smooth and indeed took less than ten minutes.
When Tony wheeled out the motorcycle with its new tire, Mavuika was leaning against a wall, watching the cars coming and going in the parking garage with keen interest.
Hearing the sound, she turned around, a satisfied smile appearing on her face.
"That fast?" She walked over and inspected the new tire: "Not bad."
"Stark Industries efficiency," Tony said, a bit smugly, but then added,
"But seriously, Mavuika, with the way you ride, I doubt this bike will last half a year. And it's dangerous too. Maybe you should be a bit more... careful?"
Mavuika swung her leg over the motorcycle, started the engine to test it, then nodded to Tony: "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Tony."
After a brief farewell, Mavuika rode the bike out of the parking garage.
Tony watched her receding figure, shook his head, and turned back towards his workshop.
He thought this was just a one-off incident, accidental damage caused by an overly excited owner.
But he was wrong.
Tony's nightmare was just beginning.
After that first time, Mavuika would seek out Tony every few days.
The first interval was four days.
This time, it was severely worn brake pads. When Tony checked, he found the friction material almost completely worn away, revealing the metal backing plate.
"Have you been practicing emergency braking these past two days?" Tony asked as he replaced the brake pads.
"This level of wear would take at least twenty hours of continuous, intense use to achieve."
Mavuika thought for a moment: "That sounds about right. There was a mountain road with lots of curves; I used the brakes quite frequently."
Tony didn't reply, just silently made another note on the repair sheet.
The second interval was three days.
This time, it was severe wear on the chain and sprockets, the drive system making a grating noise.
"Just how many miles have you ridden?" Tony inspected the chain links that were nearly ready to snap, his tone now tinged with resignation.