A Steady Spoke

I walked down to the park entrance where neighbors had locked their bicycles in a neat row. Near the front tire of an upright blue commuter bike, a bright yellow plastic whistle on a braided nylon lanyard had slipped off the handlebars, dangling dangerously close to the greasy chain. I stepped onto the steel lower rung of the rack, planted my boots firmly on the smooth metal pipe, and gripped the thick braided cord. With calm, steady leverage, I lifted the whistle away from the gears, looping its strap securely over the central brake cable. Now the chain turns free, and the path stays open for anyone riding home.