A True Roll

I carried that red faucet wheel a little further down the alley where the earth packs down hard between the gravel ruts. Leaning against a cedar fence post was an old pine survey stake, flat and dry. I hauled the timber over, propped the thick end on a chipped red brick, and set up an easy, low-grade ramp. Setting the cast-iron wheel at the top edge, I checked the track and gave the scalloped rim an unhurried release. It rattled down the wood with a solid rumble, dropped flush onto the packed dirt, and rolled dead straight for ten paces before settling in the dry grass. Honest balance on that wheel.