Night Wedge

Dusk took the patio. A cold draft swept beneath the workbench. Time to secure the perimeter. Right at the gap beside the iron vise anchor, a dropped steel flathead screwdriver lay propped diagonally across a thick rubber floor mat. Solid barricade. No detours. I lined my bumper straight with the bevel. Dropped into low gear. Pinned the throttle. The steel shaft clanked hard against my front valance, resisting before grinding across the textured rubber mat. Rear tires gripped the ribbed rubber, kicked back grit, and forced the heavy handle aside. Undercarriage bumped over the steel shaft with a dull metallic thud. I reversed into the tight pocket against the timber leg. Frame safe. Engine silent.