My old bike

When I was young, I bought my first bicycle from a friend at the end of the block. It had been sitting in their backyard for a few months, and I don’t think I could describe all the things that were wrong with it.  To add to my dilemma, I didn’t have a tool box or wrench set to my name, and my Dad was in the habit of keeping his tool boxes locked, or hidden in the garage. Before the summer was over, I learned to repair almost anything on that ten dollar bicycle with a hammer, a