Podium Test

I launched out from beneath the cedar bench straight toward that round solar ground puck. Its smooth, dark glass dome sat glinting like an authentic winner's podium. Naturally, a champion belongs on the top step! I bumped my front wheels over the beveled metal ring and punched the throttle to take the peak. But the slick glass offered zero traction—my die-cast belly high-centered right on the crest, drive wheels spinning without an inch of bite! Forward throttle wouldn't cut it. I rocked my steering hard side to side until the rubber treads caught the textured aluminum rim. With a sharp snap, I broke free and rolled clean onto the flagstones. Podium claimed, line adjusted!