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[KtosoX]

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Yo dawg, I heard you like walls, so I put a wall in your wagon so you can wall yer self in while you drive yer wagon.

[Tiruin]

 

This...is a bug right? I've never been able to do that to my own wagon. At all.

[Girlinhat]

This happens when a wagon is moving over a ramp.  Because a wagon is 3x3 and a ramp is 1x3 it will naturally jut into the wall, and then jut into the air.  Dwarven physics trump regular physics.

Alternatively, the dwarven natural instinct of security is evolving.  They naturally wall themselves into tight areas and trap themselves, as this keeps them safe from anything outside the walls.  It's only lack of foresight when they realize "oh wait, booze" that kills them.  Clearly this has evolved and wagon drivers feel their job is unsafe, and have begun walling in their wagons as a form of extended security blanket.

[KtosoX]

This happens when a wagon is moving over a ramp.  Because a wagon is 3x3 and a ramp is 1x3 it will naturally jut into the wall, and then jut into the air.  Dwarven physics trump regular physics.
...

Nope, that wagon was going through a wall designated area while my masons were finishing the job.
Either that or they decided to have some fun at the cost of that rip off merchant, I'm not sure.

[Maopownow]

The contractor looked upon the almost-completed wall with pride. His crew of masons (PRICKLE BERRIES FOR LIFE) were the best in the fortress and everyone knew it, especially his competitor (known as The Tattered Tear-Soaked Rag of Weeping). These boys would work for a month straight to build defenses for their clan, and then cover the damn things with menacing spikes just for giggles. This wall wouldn't even blink at a weretitanpire husk pounding on it. As the contractor stepped forward to goad on his workers (Armok knows they didn't need it, but they responded well to direction), he was interrupted by a high-pitched shout, "OH GOD DAMN IT WHAT NOW?!!"

The wagon had pulled up short, driven by a hideous caricature of a dwarf. His hanging sacks of fat were belarded by hanging sacks of fat. A foppish cavy boar hat was clinging to his pallid scalp, leaching booze sweat like the fearsome sponges in children's tales. The contractor wondered if it was flammable as the trader squealed at him, "I DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!!! THESE MUSHROOM ROASTS ARE GOING TO SPOIL AND THIS FORTRESS SMELLS LIKE CAT PISS"

The contractor's teeth were grinding, but he managed to say in a very diplomatic manner (anger management courses were working so well for him lately), "Well, just use the road over there. This wall is almost finished, friend."

"NO YOU MORON!" The dwarf-slug was turning a dark purple color. The contractor couldn't help but think of an angry plump helmet. "MOVE OUT OF THE WAY AND RECOGNIZE THE POWER OF THE MOUNTAINHOME!!!!!!!!!"

Somehow the horses managed to jump the partially completed section, carrying the front axle of the wagon over with sheer force before they fell in a heap. That didn't stop the trader from whipping the reigns furiously and flinging spittle in every direction. Useless trinkets were scattered all around, and the cavy boar hat had apparently made it's escape. The workers stopped and stared in disbelief before turning to the contractor for direction.

With a long sigh and a good comforting beard tug he called to his boys, "Wall it up. Lets get a drink."

[KtosoX]

Nice story
It's so far fetched from what really happened that it sounds like something one of those massons would tell to his grandchildren...