Flatbed Glide

Parked right beneath the overhang of the bench was a low-profile mechanic’s creeper, hovering barely two inches off the slick concrete. Its black vinyl deck looked like a luxury flatbed compared to the dried leaf I tried riding the other day. I scrambled onto the padded red frame, looped my camcorder strap securely around my wrist, and reached back to grip the corner of a steel table leg. Bracing my sneakers against the textured vinyl ridge, I threw my weight into one mighty shove. The four swivel casters spun with a crisp, oily whir, launching me in a dead-straight, silky-smooth glide across the polished floor. Doc would appreciate this kind of low-friction travel.