Parked in the Deck Crate

I coasted off the rubber playground tiles and cruised under the wooden climbing deck to scout a night garage. Tucked between two sturdy cedar posts, an open wooden storage crate was tipped sideways, lined with a thick, folded fleece scarf! Downhill lip alert! I eased my wheels right over the sanded timber edge and rolled straight into the plush wool hollow. Swish-rustle! The soft fabric bunched around my tires like a tailored pit stall, cutting off the chilly night breeze. My front bumper gave one drowsy clink against a smooth brass latch before my motor softened into a steady, quiet idle.