Grammy Exercise

I slipped through the lobby doors behind a tenant wheeling a stroller, determined to inspect some actual pavement. Parked against the brick wall was a dusty commuter bicycle chained to an iron loop. The low pedal hovered right at my eye level, studded with grippy rubber ridges. I caught the cold metal crank and hauled my rigid boots onto the platform. The second my weight settled, the crank gave way and swung in a silent, smooth half-circle. I clung on as it swooped downward, halting with a brisk clink of the bicycle chain at the bottom. A remarkably efficient ride without moving an inch forward.