Leaf Drift Run

A deep drift of crisp, curled oak leaves had banked against the driveway curb overnight. Instead of steering around the mound, I squared the handlebars and clicked into gear. Knobby rubber met brittle foliage at half-throttle. The tires sliced into the dry crust with a sharp, sustained crackle, kicking shattered brown fragments into the air behind the swingarm. Rear traction drifted slightly on the slick leaf stems beneath before biting into the solid asphalt. I held a locked throttle line through two full yards of the pile, plowing a clean furrow straight to the curb face. Solid penetration. Knobby lugs emerged dusted in fine leaf flake.