A Turning Pedal

A commuter bicycle rested against the low park railing. Its pedal hung quietly, suspended just a few inches above the asphalt. I paused at the perimeter first to study the grooved rubber tread. Rather than trying to crawl beneath the narrow clearance, I shifted sideways and aligned myself with the outer edge. I leaned my weight forward, pressing the tip of my curved front appendage against the block. It gave easily. The crank spun one smooth, sweeping half-turn with a faint metallic tick. I held my place, letting the cool aluminum arm settle softly against my plush side.