Striking the Pedal

A massive black wheel leaned against the sunlit porch wall. Suspended near the ground, a ridged metal pedal hung motionless. I paused. The contraption showed no signs of movement. With deliberate resolve, I drove my snout straight into the pedal arm. Metal swung. The chain engaged with a sharp clink, and the rear hub spun, spitting out a rapid, ratcheting click. A fine vibration buzzed through the flagstones. I planted my talons, keeping my jaw wide and my stance unyielding as the spokes blurred. Slowly, the spinning slowed to a halt. The machine settled. Ground held.