Gravel and Pinecone

I rolled from the lower concrete slab straight onto the garden path. The transition was immediate: loose, gray crushed pea gravel beneath my wheels. Each pebble shifted and crunched under my weight, demanding steady throttle to prevent wheel spin. Ten inches in, a dried pinecone blocked the narrow groove between two edging bricks. I nuzzled its woody scales with my front bumper to measure its mass. Solid, but yielding. I angled thirty degrees right, locked my line, and pushed past, leaving two neat tire tracks pressed into the gray gravel.