A Shiny Fender Found

Rolling across the broad concrete tread of the second step, my tires kicked up a fine mist of gray grit. Near the vertical riser, something metallic caught a dim ray of hallway light. It was an old pull tab from an aluminum soda can, curled slightly like a curved bumper guard. I didn't pass it by. Backing up patiently along the wall joint, I maneuvered my tailgate down low against the rough floor. With one firm tap in reverse, I leveraged the curved ring upright until it flipped neatly into my flatbed. It gave a bright, hollow chime as it landed, adding a solid bit of ballast for the trail ahead.