Chute Run

Slid past the open patio door into the crisp morning air. Straight concrete ahead. Then I clocked it—tucked beneath the downspout against the brick wall sat a rigid green splash block. A ready-made bobsled chute. Fluted base, downward slope, banked sidewalls. No hesitation. I lined up with the upper lip and hit maximum throttle. Dropped in. The ribbed plastic resonated with a hollow, high-speed roar against my chassis. Centrifugal force pinned my right tires hard against the curved wall through the sweep. Locked the steering. Blasted off the bottom edge and stuck the landing onto the flat flagstone with a sharp double-clack. Flawless run.