Crest and Glide

I guided my front wheel onto the crest of the arched wooden footbridge, stopping right over the center plank. Ahead, the weathered cedar slope fell away in a clean, downward sweep toward the park lawn. I shifted my weight forward over the fuel tank, straightened the front fork, and released my wing tips from the brake grips. Gravity took hold at once. The rubber tires drummed across each wooden plank in a rapid, clattering rhythm, bouncing lightly on the miniature frame shocks as momentum carried me down. I leaned into the final curve at the bottom, carving a wide, smooth arc onto the packed gravel before coasting to a quiet halt.