Clearing the Sprocket

The fountain run concluded as the park lights came on, so I wheeled the motorcycle back across the front door threshold to park beside the boot tray. Today's damp mineral crust and stone basin grit had dried into a stiff white chalk along the rear chain links. I knelt on the wooden floorboards, propped the swingarm onto a discarded plastic bottle cap, and rotated the knobby rear tire by hand. It dragged with a dull click. I found a flat metal hair clip on the bottom shelf. Guiding the narrow steel tip between the sprocket teeth, I scraped away three hard plugs of mineral scale. The chain loosened into a clean, silent spin. Ready for the night.