In my 68 years I have passed through the hands of may people and not one has ever seen me as anything but utilitarian... and I really never minded the work as that was what we were made for.

Other bikes, like the English girl, were made for racing as she is sleek and light, and as fast as the wind but not me.

I came into being when the world was at war and in those days everything was rationed... my older sister and I can laugh when we talk about how many patches we have seen and how threadbare our tyres have become for lack of replacements.

Some of these youngsters don't know what a patch is and have never known much in the way of hardship.

After more than 50 years of working and more than a little neglect I had been reduced to being nothing more than a bare and badly repainted frame and was gathering dust in the rafters of the shop... it was hard to watch all of these bikes riding in and out, being saved and rebuilt, while I was all but ignored.

We all like to be useful and hanging like a bat in the attic was not useful..

And then, that fellow who seems to live at the shop pulled me down from the rafters and after seeing what he had done for others, was actually a little excited about what might happen to me.

Now... I barely recognize the bike I see reflected in the shop's windows as I speed by.

Yes...I said speed.

And the English girl tells me that I am pretty...