Autobiography of a bicycle. An autobiography of a bicycle ​ 2022-10-09

Autobiography of a bicycle Rating: 6,3/10 1029 reviews

An autobiography of a bicycle might seem like an unusual topic, but as a machine that has been an integral part of human transportation for over two centuries, a bicycle has many stories to tell.

I was born in a factory, created from metal and rubber, assembled with care and precision by skilled workers. I was just one of many bicycles that rolled off the production line, but I was special because I was destined for greatness.

At first, I was just a means of transportation for my owner, a young man who used me to get to and from work each day. I was reliable and efficient, and I quickly became an important part of his daily routine.

But as the years passed, I began to take on a life of my own. I became a companion, a faithful friend who was always there to help my owner navigate the busy streets of the city. I was his trusty steed, always ready to go wherever he needed to go.

As I grew older, I began to take on new roles. I became a source of exercise and recreation, as my owner started to use me to explore the countryside and go on long rides through the mountains. I was strong and durable, able to withstand the rigors of off-road adventures and long distance travel.

I have seen many sights and experienced many things in my lifetime. I have been a faithful servant to my owner, and I have brought joy and happiness to countless people who have ridden me.

Now, as I near the end of my useful life, I look back on my journey with pride and satisfaction. I may be just a simple machine, but I have played a small but important role in the lives of those who have known and loved me. So, this is the autobiography of a bicycle.

The Autobiography of a Bicycle

autobiography of a bicycle

I was assembled in a factory in Jurong and was finally delivered to a small bicycle-shop in the city. I was left all alone, but with many other broken bicycles like me. I am sitting in a greasy yard and writing this biography. No one was able to repair me after that. There were beautiful flowers in that garden, and they used to look at me and smile. Now I am broken and useless. Every morning and evening I meet my old and new friends at the park where John rode on me.


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Autobiography of a Broken Bicycle

autobiography of a bicycle

And finally, one day, his father told him that they will have to abandon me. He made four great strides to me; I saw his eyes as he came, and prepared for the ride of my life. They sold me to a big showroom. Oh, I felt so beautiful. If only I could teach him, but, I was helpless. The shopkeeper was so proud of me that he polished me all the time.


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Autobiography of a Bicycle

autobiography of a bicycle

I knew that was my time. As the days passed by, more enhanced and upgraded modes of transport started coming. They colored me in black and white stripes. Pedie, offer up thanks that your rider is too young to fall in love! I felt it in my frame that something was about to happen. He never bothered to wash me and slowly, my beautiful body became caked with dirt. My shopkeeper would be shocked to see me now.

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An Autobiography of a Broken Bicycle [PDF]

autobiography of a bicycle

And so was Tony. But, then the worst thing happened. I'll bet my sprocket it's about her! Live and let others live. I really loved it that time. I made many good friends over there. Answer: The Autobiography of a Bicycle I am a hercules bicycle. Tony realized what has happened, and he was shocked.

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Autobiography Of A Bicycle [x4e6vq0m99n3]

autobiography of a bicycle

His father used to teach him. I saw corners of the city which I would have sorely missed out on had I fallen in the hands of a more affluent boy and remained relegated within the four walls of a barricaded house. He never cared about anything coming in its way. Even then he was looking over his shoulder toward the road above; but he had hardly sat up when he groaned, his eyes shut, and back he fell again and lay still. A stop for a few minutes at the fountain; and thenβ€” lamps, grips and toe-clips, and off down the path! I am a bicycle. Twice she called his name, in a voice hardly above a whisper; but he never stirred Then there came a gray shade of horror over her face; her eyes closed and I thought for a moment that she was The Autobiography of a Bicycle. For a moment the big, frightened eyes, dim with the danger just past and the new dread, swept around eagerly.

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An autobiography of a bicycle ​

autobiography of a bicycle

People aspired to have me. He talked pretty low. I will not be able to forget him too. Some were old and some were younger than me. I never forget the moment that I had with her.

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Autobiography of a Cycle

autobiography of a bicycle

Steady as a clock he was those times. I was the centre of attraction in that shop. But, how can money buy happiness? Times became so worse, that nobody would believe that I enjoyed a monopoly before! People used to see me through the eyes of desire. I was very happy. We used to talk with each other and share our stories when men in the shop went to their homes in the night.

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Cycling Autobiographies (30 books)

autobiography of a bicycle

It was tough for bicycles to get over this defeat but, it was the reality and I had to face it. So many young boys and girls came, looking for a two-wheeler which would give them the taste of their first real adventure on the street, on their own. So, one day her father got her a new bicycle and she took me to a store room. One day, a man walked into the shop with his teen-age soon. The earliest memory I have of myself is in the hands of a factory owner who was giving me the final touches of paint and proudly proclaiming to himself that I shall be soon giving pleasure to many young boys and shall be setting off for new adventures. Several times he had got plunged with me in the pool! I bided my time and waited for a young boy or girl to come and lay claim on me.

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Autobiography of a broken bicycle

autobiography of a bicycle

It was a treat to climb a hill spattered and with that man! How I wish I had not been so beautiful before. Wind used to pass through me and I felt more happy and content. He took me by the pede. But I also hope that he will not forget me. No yanking your bars streaked w i t h out of your head every stroke; no kickthe white stains ing at the pedals to keep the chain flopfrom the marsh flopping, but just a firm, steady lift, and Spring. People aspired to have me. I am the property of a kid who takes me to his school every day.

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autobiography of a bicycle

I stood there a week, dirty, bruised, bedraggled, without a glimpse of him. A company made me and name me the B. The next lasting memory which I have is being taken out of packaging after a bumpy truck ride that lasted about two days and being unwrapped and placed in a brand new, sparkling showroom in Chandigarh. The small kid puts his heavy bag upon me while going to school. Who knows what new adventure lies in store for me ahead? He was very happy, and asked his father to buy an ice-cream for him.

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