In the vast area where urban and rural areas blend together, the roads are like lively silk ribbons. One end winds into the green fields full of hope in the countryside, where the crops sway gracefully in the fields and the fruits and vegetables emit an inviting fragrance. The other end extends to the bustling streets and alleys of the market, where crowds of people are bustling about, and the sounds of hawking and bargaining are intertwined into a symphony of life. Old Zhang’s electric and fuel dual-purpose tricycle is just like a loyal and reliable companion, accompanying him through wind and rain, shuttling through streets and alleys, and witnessing every step of his struggle for life. Sometimes, the carriage is filled with fresh and tender vegetables from his own vegetable garden, with crystal-clear dewdrops hanging on the leaves, full of the vitality and joy of harvest bestowed by the earth. Sometimes, it is loaded with tables, chairs and benches carefully crafted in the carpentry workshop, with fine wood grains that embody the painstaking efforts and ingenuity of the craftsmen. Every trip is a powerful testament to his enthusiastic pursuit of a better life. And the 130 iron brake pads installed at the key positions are like silent yet resolute “safety guards”. At every braking moment, they build a solid safety defense line for Old Zhang with their own perseverance. The stories behind them are full of twists and turns as well as warm feelings.

Old Zhang is nearly sixty years old. He is simple and honest in character and down-to-earth in his work. He takes extremely good care of the tricycle that has accompanied him for many years. His daily maintenance is meticulous, just like carefully taking care of a priceless heirloom. When the sky just began to turn white in the east and the morning sun gently shone on the small courtyard, Old Zhang got up energetically. He took a soft-bristled brush, a clean rag and carried a small can of lubricating grease, and then strode towards his “old buddy” parked at the entrance of the courtyard, starting his daily unshakable “vehicle maintenance record”. First, he bent down to carefully check the power display (if it was in the fuel mode, he would focus on checking the fuel level in the fuel tank) to ensure that the power source was sufficient and stable. Then he patiently inspected along the wires and fuel pipes, not missing any potential leakage risks of electricity or fuel, ensuring the smooth transmission of energy. Then he gently turned the wheels and listened attentively, just like an experienced tuner capturing subtle notes, accurately identifying any abnormal sounds in the operation of the bearings, striving to make the driving smooth and trouble-free. When his eyes focused on the 130 iron brake pads, Old Zhang had a solemn look on his face. He knew very well that they were related to the safety of braking, as if he were examining a critical pass that guarded lives, and he dared not slack off in the slightest.

He crouched down and carefully removed the iron brake pads. He dipped the brush full of lubricating grease and gently and carefully wiped off the black debris and iron filings accumulated due to frequent friction. His movements were slow and cautious, as if he were handling fragile antiques or paintings, for fear that any inadvertent move would damage this crucial “armor”. After cleaning, he slowly rubbed his fingers along the surface of the brake pads to carefully feel the degree of wear, and carefully checked whether there were cracks, grooves or signs of uneven wear, so as to judge the braking efficiency and safety status. In Old Zhang’s heart, although these 130 iron brake pads seemed ordinary, they were actually the “magic needle that calms the sea” for the safety of the whole vehicle. Once they malfunctioned, the tricycle would lose control like a runaway wild horse. It would be a minor matter if the precious goods on the vehicle were scattered all over the ground. The real disaster would be endangering the lives of himself and passers-by. The consequences were unimaginable.

It was midwinter. The sky was gloomy and gray, and the cold wind was as sharp as a knife, cutting through every inch of the air at will. Old Zhang filled a tricycle with thick, solid wooden stools made by hand and planned to rush to the market in the neighboring town to sell them. He put on a cotton hat, wore a bulky cotton-padded coat, took a sip of hot tea to warm himself up, rubbed his hands and started the vehicle, setting off on the journey with expectations for a warm fire and a bustling business.

At first, the tricycle was moving forward steadily on the flat concrete road in the urban area. In the electric mode, the motor ran smoothly and made a low and steady sound. Old Zhang listened to it and imagined the prosperous scene of the wooden stools being snapped up in the market, and he was in an especially comfortable mood. When he reached the suburbs, after the heavy snowfall the night before, the road surface was frozen and then was made bumpy by heavy trucks running over it, full of ice chips and snow, and the road conditions were extremely bad. The crisis was quietly lurking.

Suddenly, a wild dog looking for food rushed out in front. Reacting instinctively, Old Zhang slammed on the brakes. In an instant, a sharp “squeak” sound cut through the cold and silent winter air. The body of the vehicle shook and trembled violently, but the vehicle didn’t stop steadily as expected. Instead, it slid forward for a certain distance. The wooden stools in the carriage collided with each other. Several wooden stools toppled over, with their legs broken and the surfaces damaged, making a mess. Still in shock, Old Zhang quickly stopped the vehicle to check. His heart seemed to fall into an ice cellar. It turned out that there was a serious problem with the 130 iron brake pads. It was found that the brake pads were severely worn, almost as thin as a cicada’s wings, and the remaining thickness was hardly enough to provide sufficient friction. Moreover, they were covered with ice and snow, and the braking effect was greatly reduced. In this icy and snowy and bad road condition situation, the damaged iron brake pads were like a “time bomb”. If it was necessary to brake urgently again, the vehicle would probably be difficult to stop and was very likely to slide into the deep ditches beside the road or hit the electric poles. The terrible consequences were unimaginable.

At that time, all around were vast white fields, with snow covering the withered grass. On the road, except for the occasional coal trucks that roared past and raised large amounts of snow fog, there were hardly any people in sight. Old Zhang’s tricycle carrying the “injured” iron brake pads was like a lonely boat drifting in the icy ocean full of raging waves and hidden reefs, in a very dangerous situation. He was extremely anxious. Fine beads of sweat immediately oozed out on his forehead. The back of his clothes was instantly soaked through by sweat, and although the cold wind blew, the sweat seemed to freeze on his back. He quickly moved the vehicle to a relatively stable mound beside the road and tried to remedy the situation in a flustered manner.

Old Zhang tremblingly took out a simple repair tool kit from under the seat of the vehicle, took out tools such as wrenches and screwdrivers, and tried to clean the ice and snow and replace the brake pads. However, the cold wind was howling, his fingers were frozen and trembling, and he couldn’t hold the tools steadily. When using the screwdriver to turn the screws, it slipped and lost its force, and the wrench could hardly tighten the nuts. After repeated attempts, the problem remained stubborn. Helplessness and anxiety were intertwined in his heart. The feelings of coldness, frustration were churning and boiling in his heart, and he was almost desperate.

Just when he was full of worry and felt helpless, a passing agricultural four-wheeled vehicle slowly stopped. The window was rolled down, and a kind-faced, weather-beaten and simple and honest uncle stuck his head out and asked with concern, “Brother, what’s going on? It’s freezing cold. Is there something wrong with your vehicle?” Old Zhang hurriedly pointed at the 130 iron brake pads and told him what had happened. Without saying a word, the uncle took a jack, professional repair tools and spare 130 iron brake pads from his vehicle. It turned out that the uncle ran a large forest farm by himself. He often drove to transport timber and knew the hardships of the road well. He was used to keeping emergency items in the vehicle to prepare for unexpected needs.

The uncle got out of the vehicle and walked to Old Zhang’s vehicle. First, he handed Old Zhang a bottle of hot water to warm his hands and calm his nervousness. Then he skillfully operated the jack to lift the vehicle body, removed the damaged iron brake pads. He skillfully cleaned the residual debris, installed the new brake pads, calibrated the clearance, tightened the screws, and gently stepped on the brake pedal to test. With the clear and crisp “creaking” sounds, the brakes regained their previous sensitivity and steadily “returned to their positions and fulfilled their duties”, giving the tricycle reliable braking guarantee again, which finally put Old Zhang’s hanging heart at ease.

Old Zhang’s eyes were red, and his voice choked with emotion. He grasped the uncle’s hands tightly and thanked him repeatedly. He insisted on giving the uncle several wooden stools. The uncle couldn’t refuse and took them. Then he smiled and told Old Zhang, “Brother, you should be more careful when driving on these bad roads in the future. This iron brake pad is related to the safety of the whole vehicle. You can’t be careless at all!” Old Zhang nodded vigorously, keeping it firmly in mind.

After this incident, Old Zhang took extremely good care of the 130 iron brake pads. Before setting out each time, he would conduct a detailed and comprehensive inspection, not only examining the appearance and measuring the thickness, but also simulating emergency braking situations to check the braking effect. After returning the vehicle, he would wipe and maintain it with a dry cloth, regularly check the tightness of the screws and reinforce the connection of the components. Since then, the iron brake pads have never had any problems again and have steadily accompanied Old Zhang as he continued to be busy shuttling between urban and rural areas, witnessing his years of working hard for a living.