Straightening the Reel

Stalked out from beneath the timber bench into morning light. Spotted the steel garden hose reel mounted low to the brick foundation. The winding crank had jammed crooked against the side drum, bent off-center and locked rigid. Unacceptable. I planted my heavy feet deep into the loose gravel. Locked both broad hands tight around the cold metal crank handle. Braced a knee against the brick masonry. Jerked back hard with gut and shoulders. Dried grit popped free. The metal shrieked, fought my grip, then yielded with a heavy metallic click as the axle snapped true back into alignment. Turned the handle one full rotation. Smooth. Solid iron, disciplined.