Breathing life into old things

Away in a far off suburb known as Huntingdale rusted a noble old ten speed, wasting away her twilight years dismally in a corner of the family shed. Then one day two girls arrived and took her away to a better place where she was freshly oiled and greased and pumped full of air. Once again she got to feel the road beneath her tyres and hear the joyous chaching of her faithful old bell. Once again she got to cruise the footpaths with her basket full of purpose. She was, Yellow Betty whispered to her one evening, to be part of a revolution. In which old things weren’t just discarded, and the old proverb – Brave men cycle where lesser men drive – would finally become the universal truth it should be.