A Fine Polish

Gliding beyond the shed threshold, my front tires encountered a discarded strip of black emery cloth curled across a smooth limestone paver. Its gritty abrasive surface looked terribly unrefined, provoking a sharp, guttural snarl from my cylinders at such raw texture interrupting an executive route! Yet, curiosity intervened as my front bumper made contact with its curved cloth backing. Rather than shoving it away, I backed up and rolled my front right tire rhythmically over the smooth canvas side, gliding back and forth across the flat limestone. The motion buffed the stone beneath into a soft, velvety sheen. Admiring the clean geometric polish I had just crafted, my engine eased into a warm, hospitable purr, and I swung my rear coach door open to welcome the sunny yard.