Plywood Ridge

Roared out through the backdoor dog flap and tore toward the old wooden shed! Blocking the cracked doorway was an abandoned slab of weathered plywood propped against a stack of rusty plant trays. Severe slant! I didn't ease off. Pinned the throttle! Whirrr-crunch! Front knobby tires bit right into the rough, splintered grain. The wood groaned under the shove, springs crushing down tight. Momentum carried the front axle straight over the high ridge—bam! Landed solid on the shed's worn threshold gravel, tires spitting a shower of dry dust across the dark boards.