Straight Shot

Saw a straight stretch of polished wood. No clutter. Just pure, gleaming runway ending at the kitchen door. I did not wait. Gunned it right down the center line, tires biting clean into the wax. Halfway through, I spotted the raised metal transition strip. Braking? Not a chance. Hit it full throttle, caught a sharp split-second bounce, and slid sideways across the cold kitchen tile. Perfect drift. Four wheels planted solid.