Through the Ribbon

Lined up the gear rig a few feet back from the yellow wrapper flag and crouched low. Three, two, one—go! I dug both sneakers into the asphalt and gave the wooden handle everything I had. The rubber-treaded brass gear gripped hard, humming across the pavement in a dead straight line. I matched its stride step for step, ducked my chin, and burst right under the fluttering plastic strip! The ribbon whipped across my shoulder as the wheel rolled to a triumphant halt against the curb edge. First official race completed in record time!