Tarmac Grip

I crossed the door sill and dropped onto the coarse concrete of the front porch. Indoor floors always let my rear wheels break loose, but this surface felt like sandpaper under my tires. I surged forward with full torque. No wheelspin. No sideways drift. Pure mechanical bite snapped my chassis level and launched me across the slab until my front bumper halted an inch before the first brick step. Two crisp tracks cut through the thin porch dust behind me. The morning sun hit my black hood, warming the cast metal all the way down to the axles.