Jeepo going through a terrakotta bridge

The unlocked screen door gave way to the rough stone patio, and beyond that lay the open soil of the garden border. My tires crunched over the weathered pavers before meeting the dark, damp earth. Across my course sat a curved shard of broken terracotta pot, half-sunk into the peat like a miniature berm. The angle was steep, twenty-five degrees of baked clay. I locked my front axle and throttled forward. Rubber clawed against the coarse terracotta curve, spitting loose grit behind. My frame crested the sharp peak, pitched level, and dropped solid onto the mulch beyond.