write an autobiography of a broken bicycle.
Answers
Explanation:
an autobiography of a broken bicycle. is here ok
Answer: I am a broken bicycle. My life is just like my condition, broken. I am writing my autobiography, to share my predicaments with others. ... I was the best bicycle present in the store, and the boy had to choose me.I AM BROKEN BICYCLE.I WAS MADE BY A SMALL KID OF 14 YEARS NAMED ROHIT. HE LIKE TO RIDE ON ME .I AM USED TO GO WITH HIM SCHOOL AND TUTION AND TO PLAYGROUND DAILY. HE WAS VERY HAPPY THAT HE HAD MADE A NEW BICYCLE OF RED COLOUR AND THAT IS ME.HE GAVE A NAME TO ME AND THAT IS RED ROCKET. BECAUSE HE USED TO RIDE ME FAST. WHEN HE IS JUST OF 14 YEARS I AM WITH HIM ALWAYS . BUT WHEN HE BECOMES 18 YEARS I AM BROKEN IN ACCIDENT . ONE DAY AS USUAL ROHIT IS RIDING ON ME IN EARLY MORNING HE WAS GOING TO PLAYGROUND FOR PLAYING CRICKET . HE PARKED ME IN GROUND AND GONE FOR PLAYING AT THAT TIME I WAS LISTNING THE SOUNDS OF TREES ANS BIRDS . I AM FEELING THE FRESH AIR AND ALSO WATCHING ROHIT AS HE IS PLAYING CRICKET. I LIKED THIS ALL BUT AT TIME SUDDENLY ONE BIKER CAME THERE AND UNFORTUNATELY HE RIDE HIS BIKE ON ME AND I WAS COMPLETELY BROKEN .ROHIT DON'T KNOWS THIS .WHEN CAME AGAIN TO ME AND SAW ME IN THIS CONDITION HE IS ALSO SHOCKED AND CRIED A LOT FOR ME. HE TOOK ME HOME BROKEN AND HE TRIED TO FIX ME AS I WAS USED TO BE HIS FAVOURITE BICYCLE. BUT HE WAS FAILED TO FIX ME AFTER THAT HE TOOK ME TO OTHER BICYCLE REPAIRERS . IF THEY CAN FIX ME BUT THEY SAID NOW THIS BICYCLE IS USELESS YOU SHOULD TAKE A NEW ONE. I BECOMES SAD BECAUSE NOW I AM USELESS AND I CAN NEVER HELP ROHIT A I WAS BROKEN. AT LAST ROHIT ALSO AGREED AND DECIDED TO TAKE NEW BICYCLE AND I LEFT BROKEN AND MY LIFE ENDS HERE ONLY.
Autobiography Of An Old Bicycle
I am a 'Raleigh' bicycle. I was manufactured in England and arrived in Malaysia a few years before the Second World War. When I arrived in Penang you could hardly recognize me, for the various components of my frame had been packed in separate boxes. Having put me together and tested me, a bicycle dealer in Penang 'placed me on show in front of his shop. A young Malay clerk who had come all the way from Taping bought me. I have forgotten the price he paid, but it was nothing with what you have to pay for a new bicycle these days.
My young master was a very considerate fellow. He cleaned me every morning before taking me out. I was always greased and oiled. The only distance I had to cover daily was the double journey between his house and his office. He was a stay-at-home type, and I was seldom required to go out in the evenings or even during holidays-long or short. After two years he decided to buy a car. But this did not stop him from looking well after me so long as I was still with him. On the, contrary, he cleaned me even more carefully than ever. He wanted me to fetch a good second-hand-price.