"Ramp the bitch!" your little brother, Timmy, shouts to you as you approach the steep concrete incline in the sidewalk preceding the railroad crossing.
"Fuck yeah! Hold on!" you reply, and push the wheelchair at a dead sprint.
"Now, Nathan, watch you language," says Grandma, seated firmly in her wheelchair, knitting a sweater. "...and pick up the pace, Timmy said ramp the bitch, not drag your ass."