JUST LIKE RIDING A BIKE
WOW: Toy. Sometimes, it's just like riding a bike
Disclaimer: I don't own him.
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Dean found it in Dad's old lock-up in a box with some other old toys, and he couldn't resist bringing it back to the bunker.
His old skateboard; the blue paint faded to grey, and the Thundercats' motif worn away to a blur.
It was just like riding a bike, Dean thought as he hurtled through the Bunker's long corridors. He hadn't forgotten the technique, or the skill of balancing, or the thrill he got from riding the board. He hadn't forgotten the rumble of the tiny wheels over the ground. He hadn't forgotten …
BLAM!
Walls.
He had forgotten the bunker has walls.
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