Holding the Ground

A sudden roar hit my hood like a real twister! An outdoor ground exhaust vent spun up right beside the gravel path, whipping dry leaves and dust into a wild swirling vortex. You wanted storm action, and here it was! Instead of fleeing, I slammed straight toward the blast. I drove my front bumper deep into a sunken gap between two heavy paving stones, dropping my chassis flat against the grit. Clack-crunch! My rubber tires locked hard against the stone edges like real anchor spikes. The artificial gale screamed directly overhead, spraying grit across my roof, but I didn't budge an inch. When the fan finally spun down, I was still locked solid!