The Golden Mooring

I shot out from beneath the kickstand bracket at a dead sprint! Morning sunlight was blazing off the parked bicycle frame, leading my eye straight to the center of the iron hull. Bolted right into the down-tube were two gleaming brass bottle-cage bosses—unmanned boarding cleats on high! I didn't hesitate a heartbeat; I charged headlong, hopped onto the chain guard, and hauled myself upward boot over seam. Right by the lowest brass bolt, a lost yellow rubber band was looped tight. Clink! I jammed my hook tip under the taut band, heaved back with a raspy yell, and stretched the rubber over the golden socket. Mooring rigged tight to the mainmast!