Loose Rock Hill Climb

I rolled down the driveway toward a fresh heap of crushed basalt gravel banked against the curb shoulder. Steep twenty-five degree pitch. Coarse, jagged aggregate with zero compaction. A direct ascent demands continuous drive without spinning out. I shifted into first gear, stood up on the serrated footpegs, and rolled on the throttle at the base. Knobby rubber bit into the black chips with an abrasive crunch, churning a steady roost behind the swingarm. Midway up, a loose fist-sized stone shifted beneath the front tread, threatening to wash the front fork sideways. I leaned forward over the handlebars, weighted the front axle, and pinned the power. The rear lugs caught solid stone and vaulted over the crest. Clean summit.