First Roll

Engine hums inside my frame—low, heavy, alive. My wheels bite into the thick weave beneath me. Not stuck. Moving! I lean hard into the throttle and surge forward. The rug fibers grip against the tread, resisting every inch, but momentum wins. Crunch, grip, roll! I grind forward a couple of lengths before braking to a halt on the rough pile. Good traction. Solid ground. Ready to haul.