The parking brake prevents the car from rolling
downhill or away if struck, pulls cables
to arms on shoes against drums
or pads against rotors by caliper
via cam against piston (holds it there),
keeps the car at the curb, the encintado,
and PARK, because it is seldom used,
seems unnecessarily redundant.
But this leg of my walk is flat, no tires
angled sharply against the curb.
Some of the streets in San Francisco are so steep
it seems impossible to park a car there,
yet cars are parked there,
parking brakes clenched under the strain.
One of two things can happen:
the properly adjusted drum adjusters fail
or the corrosion slows the stopping travel.
Most hands should only travel about four or five "clicks"
and/or hold sufficient drag, a conventional duo-servo
forcing the drum outward.
There’s no shoe wear, only star wheel,
the long life of the incline and the full-sized matter
come together, connected:
the linkage and a single binding,
the binding sheaths,
the main rust of cause,
a serious freeze,
an amount of yoke,
the hinge and pivot,
the marginal circuits,
the locking cables,
the secondary arms,
both hydraulic cars and both pairs of shoes,
the important adjustment that is too tight to work,
too loose to hold.
The concern is balance
and/or imbalance of each spool,
of tubes, trays, and waffles (horneado),
of loosening the availability and the handling
of different sizes (from small to great),
the complete preparation of cuts,
the components of superficial assembly,
the service of fast answer,
the specifications of the client,
the straightened legs sealed to the emptiness.
This is another excerpt from Atlas Peripatetic, a sequence inspired by an extensive mapping of sounds on my morning walk; in this case the sound of a parking brake being yanked into place.