Clearance Over the Threshold

The metal key tag held its angle against the rubber mat rim. I lined up the black racer four strides back on the linoleum, locked my grip to the bar, and kicked off. We hit the metal incline cleanly. The wheels left the ramp, caught two inches of airborne drift over the coarse mat fibers, and slammed down into the shallow groove of the plastic shoe tray below. A discarded blue plastic bottle cap blocked the main channel. Rather than veering off, I leaned hard into the left turn, nudging the cap aside with the front bumper. The racer glided to a halt inside the boot heel recess. Route bridged.