Night Pit Stop

Evening chilled the open lot, making the wide asphalt stretch deserted and quiet. Leaving the curb overhang behind, I spooled my rear wheels and rolled toward a bulky green metal transformer box grounded near the lot's edge. At its base, a discarded cardboard coffee cup sleeve lay flat against the concrete footer. Smooth, grooved corrugated cardboard—pure pit ramp! I gunned the throttle, hopped my front tires squarely onto the brown paper tread, and broke into a neat thirty-degree slide. My rear wing tucked neatly into the dry recess beneath the box's overhanging steel lip. Axles cooling down, shielded from night breezes, locked into neutral for sleep.