FRANK WESTWORTH
Sep 23, 2019
3 minutes
“Every bike we possessed was itself a scrapyard refugee. From a scrappy they usually came (my first bike, a Panther, was actually rescued from a dustcart) and to a scrappy they inevitably returned after a few months as unreliable transport.”
ancient briar, wiping a rheumy eye and sniffing only a little, time was that when a chap needed a bit for his ancient, worn-out old bike he would simply wander off to one of the local breakers and buy it. Which sounds easier than
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