Slalom Through the Arches

I rolled past the swings to the row of weathered tires buried half-deep in the packed sand like an agility gauntlet. Ramming them wasn't the play this time—I wanted to see how tight I could carve. I opened up the throttle and cut hard into the first opening. My knobby rubber bit deep into the sand, kicking up a miniature rooster tail as I leaned into the bank, whipped around the rubber arch, and instantly snapped the handlebars opposite to clear the next gap. Three clean weaves without ticking a single fender. I slid to a halt at the finish, sand dusting my rims, locked and ready for the next heat.