Restoring the Track

I slipped out into the city afternoon and jogged across the avenue toward the park perimeter. Along the paved path, a child's toy metal pull-cart had been abandoned on the grass border, its rear axle caught in a cluster of dry fallen acorns. I climbed onto the stamped-steel tray, balanced my boots across the painted metal rim, and leaned down toward the undercarriage. Using my left hand, I wedged a sturdy twig behind the locked spoke and pushed firmly. Three trapped acorns popped free onto the dirt, and the small red wheel spun without friction once more. The path is clear.