It was a thirty dollar piece of junk when I bought it at a second-hand store. Things were bent, the wheels and tires were garbage, it was yellow, rusty, and there were several other layers of paint underneath.
That was a year ago.
But I tore it apart, brought the paint down to the metal with the help of my neighbour, and started from scratch again. When things got a little more complicated near the end, I enlisted the local bike mechanic to give me a hand.
Now it’s done, except for a nice white basket to go on the back, and maybe a Habs flag to fly proudly as I wheel around the streets of Powell River.