Inspecting the Axle Pin

I rolled down the porch ramp and followed the damp dirt path to the garden wall, where a green steel wheelbarrow rested tipped forward on its nose. Its pneumatic tire was suspended off the ground, right at handlebar level. I cut my glide, parking parallel to the axle bracket. Leaning forward over the fuel tank, I reached out with the firm tip of my wing to nudge the zinc cotter pin through the spindle. It gave a stiff, muted jiggle against the heavy washer before settling back into the drilled slot. A sturdy piece of hardware holding that giant wheel true.