Breaking the Grid

My axles clicked. Smooth wood beneath my treads—clean, zero resistance. I was lined up bumper to bumper in a tight, motionless queue across the floorboards. Too static. I kicked my rear wheels forward, breaking formation with a brisk roll. My front fender nudged gently against the blue Uno card resting near the base of the cabinet, spinning it a fraction of an inch. A clear track ahead, responsive steering, and ready to roll.