Breaching the Slate Bench

Fired up my axles right out of the cold shadow under the slate bench! Morning light cut across the patio flagstones, but my exit line was barricaded. That iron marshmallow roasting fork lay flat against the dirt, pinned down by a fallen, dried hickory branch. Detours don't belong in my code! Dropped into low gear, pinned the throttle wide open, and drove bumper-first into the forged prongs. CLANG! Cold iron screeched against my frame, snapping the brittle branch with a sharp crackle. Axles flexed hard under brutal torque, my massive chevron treads chewing deep into the gritty soil to vault clean over the metal bar. Landed solid in the open sunlight, rolling free!