We went to another auction last Saturday, and they had a bunch of bikes to sell. This was the first time that I noticed a tag on many of them that said something to the effect of, “This bike looks like it’s been abandoned. If you don’t move it, we’re going to take it. Oh, and quit leaving your shoes on the stairs – someone’s going to break their neck.”
I had a bike in college that was stolen, so now at every auction I look for it. It wasn’t there (go figure), but these two beautiful specimens were. They remind me of the childhood bike I inherited from my sister long ago. It was a blue, no gears, pedal-backwards-to-brake Tornado (which my brothers convinced me was pronounced ‘Tor-NAH-do’) that she had painted beautiful white flowers twining about on the fenders. It was quite lovely, until one brother got a new airbrush and tested it out by randomly spraying a big messy stripe of gold. *sniff* I guess it was pretty ghetto by then.
(I have no need of a bike, though. Apparently there are three or four in our shed that have never been ridden by Lloyd or myself. Brad, I believe one of them is yours.)