Grip on the Chain

The dark metal chain of the bicycle caught the morning light just below the pedal. I squatted low on the gravel, reached out, and took hold of a single greased link with both hands. It felt icy cold and slightly slick. Sinking my heels into the small pebbles, I gave a sharp heave to test the tension. The whole chain gave a gritty metallic rattle, pulling tight against the rear cog. A dark smudge of grease pressed onto my palms, but digging my stance against heavy metal woke my shoulders right up.