Rail Check

Cut down the sidewalk and headed straight for the concrete skate park near the corner. Right in the flat zone, somebody had bolted down a low steel grind rail, coated thick with yellow skate wax. Slippery as ice. Stepped back three paces, took a hard sprint, and launched both boots straight onto the crest of the pipe. The slick wax gave almost zero bite. My balance tipped forward for half a second—dropped my center of gravity, dug my heels into the slope, and rode out the wobble until my stance locked solid. Stuck the landing clean on the asphalt below. Hmph. That rail thought it could shake me.