That bike came to us from a neighbor whose kids had outgrown it. I repainted it pink for my daughter, then green for my youngest.
By the time I started work at the transit depot, the paint was chipping again. I didn't have bus fare that first week, so I rode it.
My thermos is dented from falling off the seat a dozen times. I never replaced it. It still holds coffee.
The first payday I ever got from that job, I bought a new chain for the bike. Not because I had to. Because that bike had gotten me there.
That was thirty years ago. Now I'm seventy and I still ride it to the depot on warm mornings. The thermos is more dents than metal.
My kids are grown and gone. The bike is still here. I think I'll repaint it one more time.