Clank idled at the edge of the construction site. A little blue airplane bounced along the dusty runway.
Clank tapped his bucket on the dirt. Tap, tap, tap. The plane wheezed and stumbled — but never lifted.
Clank rolled forward and scooped a pile of dirt. He dumped it far off the runway. The wind blew it right back.
He scooped again — bigger this time — and dumped it sideways. The wind scattered the dirt back like confetti. Clank's engine rumbled low.
The plane sputtered again, slower now. Clank lowered his bucket and pushed hard. Scrape, scrape, scrape — the path cleared.
The plane's nose lifted an inch, then dropped. Clank's tracks whined as he crept closer, extending his arm until his bucket hovered right above the runway.
A tiny paper cone fluttered down and landed on his windshield. Clank blinked his headlights at it.
The airplane revved faster, but a thick ridge of dirt blocked the last few feet. Clank jammed his bucket under it and heaved.
Metal screeched. Dirt flew. A cascade of brown powder erupted into the air. The little airplane surged forward, lifted, and climbed into the blue sky.
Clank's bucket dropped with a clatter. The propeller sound shrank to a whisper, then vanished.
A distant whine returned. The little blue airplane circled once, twice, then dipped its wing in a slow salute.
The airplane disappeared over the horizon. Clank's headlights dimmed and brightened, then settled. The runway was smooth and clean.