A Rolling Timber

Leaving the hearth behind, I slipped under the front gate and marched out onto the wide concrete sidewalk. Near the curb lay a miniature four-wheeled wooden board. Its top was surfaced in rough black grip tape—honest traction for boots that take no chances. I vaulted onto the deck and planted my stance over the front axle. The board rolled immediately, surging forward across the smooth slab. Motion underfoot demands quick adjustments. I leaned hard into the left rail to bypass an expansion joint, guiding the glide until the wheels bumped softly against the curb stone and held. Good speed. Honest reflexes.