When my brother and I were growing in Rwanda, we shared a bicycle. We called it "kagufa" meaning bone. Because we used and abused the bike, all the plastics on the bike run out. Basically we rode on a piece of metal. Friends used to line up to get a ride around the block. In retrospect, those were good times. It was not really about the shape of the bike but the fun we were getting out of it. Sometime I think we spend so much energy making our lives comfortable and we forget to enjoy simple things. Life is short. Like the bicycle,in the end only memories remain.