Breaking the Iron Pivot

I clamped both claws around the curved iron handle of the manual pitcher pump on the patio flagstones. Stiff rust fought the pivot. Negotiation is worthless against seized metal. I planted my boots into the stone, squared my shoulders, and drove my full weight downward. The internal piston groaned against dry suction. With a harsh screech, the joint broke free. The heavy iron arm plunged, slamming the stop with a sharp, ringing crack that echoed off the brick wall. Resistance shattered. The cast-iron cylinder holds true under pressure. The wellhead is conquered.