an autography of abroken bicycle
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Autobiography of a broken bicycle
I am a bicycle. Now I am broken and useless. I have a glorious past. A company made me and name me the B.S.A. bicycle.They colored me in black and white strips. They sold me a big showroom. There I made many friends. They were motor bikes and another more bicycles. One day a little and cute girl saw me and cried for me. Her mother brought me and took at home on a car. I was very happy. She used me to go school and playground. Her friends and she race among them self. She took care of me. And she always clean me. I am grew old. And my brake fail,my color faded. So, one day her father got her a new bicycle and she took my on a store room. I never forget the moment that I had with her.The past is very beautiful