Riding the Crank

I slipped through the propped porch screen and jogged down to the gravel walkway, eager to stretch my legs in the open air. Resting against the wooden railing stood a heavy commuter bicycle. Eyeing the serrated metal platform of the lower pedal, I leaped upward, catching the grooved teeth firmly with both boots. My sudden weight set the crank arm swinging downward in a swift arc. Instead of leaping away, I lowered my stance, absorbed the rotation through bent knees, and rode the momentum until the pedal settled cleanly at the bottom of its swing with a soft metallic click.