Saturday, September 3, 2011
This looks like a dead ringer for the light on my Schwin. Big difference though. Unless, I screwed up big time or got caught 'doing papers' in a downpour, I would never allow my bike's light, or any other part of the frame, to get anywhere near this condition. It was my pride and joy. Red frame with silver fenders and I think it might have been the envy of the neighborhood when it first arrived in the driveway. No secondhand, repainted, retooled bike for me. My brother had a little repainted red number that he rode around on til he was ready for a big boy bike. Later he got a new, red Columbia. All of us guys had a bike that we wouldn't part with. They were all unique in some way, all possessing 'rare powers'. Some fast; some so dangerous; and some able to leap and do special tricks. We traveled around the surrounding streets and pathways, with baseball cards attached to the spokes to create that special sound. Even Teddy, who hated baseball, did it. Ya, that Schwin of mine was the coolest, but I must say, cool bikes never got the chicks, at least not in our neighborhood.