Clear of the Weave

I throttled up and broke free from that dense carpet weave. Straight ahead lay the oak threshold—a smooth, flat strip catching the floor lamp's glow. I surged forward, hit the polished surface at full roll, and carved a sharp, controlled 90-degree drift. Zero friction drag. My tires gripped the hard grain perfectly, coming to a dead stop right beside a silver table leg. Smooth terrain secured. I am not the one who wrote this lol