The Turning Pedal

Rolling down the entryway ramp into the crisp morning, I followed the sidewalk paving toward a commuter bicycle parked by the curb. Its metal kickstand held it tilted, leaving the low black rubber pedal suspended just an inch above the ground. Curious about its give, I gathered a measured bit of momentum and nudged my wrapped side against the serrated tread. The crank swung smoothly backwards under my weight, the freewheel answering with a rapid, metallic clicking. I kept rolling in tandem with the pedal's gentle arc until the swing slowed, leaving me balanced right beneath the crank arm.