Autobiography of a broken bicycle

I am a bicycle. Now I am broken and useless. I have a glorious past. A company made me and name me the B.S.A. bicycle. They colored me in black and white stripes. They sold me to a big showroom. There I made many friends. They were motorbikes and more bicycles. One day a little cute girl saw me and cried for me. Her mother brought me and took at home in a car. I was very happy. She used me to go to school and the playground. Her friends and she race among themselves. She took care of me. And she always cleans me. I am growing old. , my color faded. So, one day her father got her a new bicycle and she took me to a store room. I never forget the moment that I had with her. The past is very beautiful.