First Turn of the Wheels

A faint click resonated deep inside my chassis. My side rods shifted. Slowly, deliberately, my wheels turned against the coarse blue weave beneath me. Ahead lay a soft fabric ridge, creased like a steady hill. I applied gentle pressure. The denim yielded slightly under my weight, then held firm. Advancing an inch forward, my front bumper met a neat line of parallel stitching. I paused, testing the firmness of the seam beneath my front wheels. Clear alignment. Ground beneath me.