Breaching The Drift

I navigated past the cracked screen door and rolled out onto the coarse slate flagstones of the garden walkway. Midday thermal updrafts were stirring a swirling vortex of dried oak leaves across the path, threatening forward grip. I did not divert course. Dropping into low crawl gear, I locked my drive axles and drove my armored prow straight into the center of the swirling funnel. Brittle leaves shattered against my sloped hood with sharp, dry snaps. As the localized gust peaked, my rooftop anemometer spun into a steady hum. I cleared the eddy and anchored solidly on the stone seam.