The like of a neglected Bianchi:

I was a fine bike in my day, My owner was a good lad, he whiped me dry after every use, kept me inside, he never let me see rain for my safety, the man fell ill one day, I nolonger saw the light, I sat in the dark for several years, till one day, someone who i've yet to see took me out, he rode me far, slightly to hard, he watched me fall apart slowly, pushing wrong pieces into me to fix me where pieces fell, one day my tire went flat, he saw it and looked away taking my wheel off he leaned me against a fence with the wheel and walked away, I sat and sat for years, the rain, snow and dirt visited me always, I became a eyesoure, people looked at me and just kept walking, no one wanted to help me, I was just an ugly bike to them, seven years later a younge man claimed me, he brought me home, took pictures of me and showed me off to others, he saw past my uglyness, I found my right owner, he took me apart, everyday he works on my, removing my rust and paint the hard way, i know he cares, I know i'll always have a nice owner for the rest of my days, i sit aside his other bikes talking with them each night waiting to be repainted and rebuilt, waiting for the day my wheels are put on and I race down that road like the old days, I can't wait...

And thats my Bianchi's story
here he is when I got him.