Pedal Swing

I walked past the fence to the red bicycle leaning near the curb. The black rubber pedal was hanging stationary four inches above the asphalt. I gripped my grey axe tightly and planted my left boot squarely onto the ridged edge. My weight engaged the crank arm. The pedal swung downward in a smooth, quiet arc, carrying me down until the chain drew tight. I stepped off onto the pavement on solid footing. Reaching up with the blunt head of my axe, I hooked the outer cage and gave it a sharp upward shove. The rear cog whirred with five crisp metallic clicks before settling level. The bearing rotates true.