Friction Brake

I skidded right back under the front door after that outdoor run, boots dusted and knees practically buzzing for a cooldown! Parked flat on the lower wooden shelf sat an old metal shoehorn, its curved steel blade tilted slightly on its side. Pure ramp potential! I didn't hesitate—I charged in, planted both boots right onto the polished metal slope, and tried to slide straight up to the heel grip. But the steel was slick as ice! My treads lost traction instantly, spinning me into a 180-degree drift. I clamped both hands around the narrow neck, digging my heels in hard. Clang! The shoehorn rocked flat, locking my soles in place like a proper pit lane brake!