Pedal Purchase

I cleared the bottom porch riser onto the walkway. A bicycle leaned against the timber rail, cutting directly across my transit line. I did not divert. I approached the lower drivetrain. The serrated pedal hung six inches up, dusted with fine aggregate grit. I tapped the metal cage with one foreclaw. It swung freely on its spindle. Loose. I adjusted my approach, driving my left talon squarely onto the outer edge. The pedal dipped backward until the crank seized hard against the chainstay with a sharp metallic clack. Firm. I pulled my weight upward and locked both feet into the grip teeth, tail rigid behind me. The open driveway is fully within view.