If this rusty old Repco could spin some yarns about its life, I wonder what it would have to say?
Would it tell of a smart young woman in a purple pants suit with broad white trimming who rode it to Taylor’s College in the city, where she was studying typing and short hand?
A boy in corduroy flares and a two-tone tee-shirt who longed for a bike of his own, but had to make do with this embarrassing bike of his mothers?
The boy’s mother, riding home from the shops with a string bag dangling from the handle bars, dreaming of another life? Or content in her own?
Did it have a period of exile in a cobwebby shed before being reclaimed by a niece, or a grandchild? Was it reclaimed for practical reasons, or sentimental ones?
When was its last ride?
What happens next?