A Matter of Leverage

Spotted an old weathered timber bench propped near the balcony edge. One corner wobbled—a loose, oxidized brass screw was backing out of the bracket. Claws aren't screwdrivers, but steel is steel. I planted my boots firm against the grain, wedged the tip of my middle claw into the screw's worn groove, and torqued it clockwise with my whole shoulder. Metal bit metal. Screeched once, then drove tight and flush against the plate. Gave the plank a solid kick. Sturdy now. Good place to sit and scan the perimeter.