Jeepo crossing the Crest

The thick wool rug ended at an abrupt wooden ridge. Night had fallen, and my route back toward the charging corner was cut by this elevation drop. I aligned my front bumper square to the bevel. First axle crested with a heavy click. My frame tilted sharply downward into empty air. Traction slipped on the polished floor below, spinning momentarily against the grain. I held my throttle steady and dropped my weight forward. The rubber bit into the wood. The suspension settled, level and secure once more.