The Iron Crank

I pushed through the cracked patio door onto the garden path. Parked against the brick wall stood a two-wheeled steel giant. Target in sight: a wide black rubber pedal hanging at flank height. No hesitation. I closed the distance, hooked my claws over the grooved tread, and hauled my weight up. CLICK-WHIRR. The crank rotated instantly beneath my tread. The pedal dipped in a fast, smooth arc. I did not flinch. I thrust my tail straight out as an unyielding counterweight and rode the rotating arm down until the sprocket caught. Solid clunk. Movement ceased. I held the locked summit, balanced six inches above the gravel. Kinetic titan tamed.