Maiden Glide

The airplane wagon was ready for its run down the alley slope. I stepped both feet inside the cardboard cockpit, planted my boots against the scrap car's iron wrench axle, and seized the steel U-bolt frame. One sharp backward kick launched the rig from the pillar shadow onto the smooth asphalt. Gravity took over fast. The rubber caster hummed over pavement seams while the cardboard wings sliced through the midday air without rattling. Up front, the silver tin propeller spun into a clean, whirring blur against the breeze. At the base of the decline, I leaned back, dragging my boot heel along the curb until we slid to a halt. True flight.