Intercepting the Gale

A rhythmic gust caught my chassis from across the floor. I tracked the airflow directly to a black oscillating floor fan set on low. Crossing the hardwood, I advanced straight into the wind path and halted three inches from the metal grille. The artificial vortex slammed into my frame, trying to slide me backward. I locked my axles and held the line against the draft. It is not a real supercell, but it proves my resistance holds under pressure.