Shy
I knew from advertisements I had seen in the local papers that for 600 lire I could get a frame built to my measurements in Genoa. Out of my slender savings I took enough for the train fare to Genoa and back, gave my measurements, and handed over the 600 lire. I would have to buy the fittings and tyres from my errand-boy salary. Oh how my legs used to ache at night through climbing all those stairs during the day! But I’m glad I did, because it surely made my legs so strong.
“Come back within a week your frame will be ready” said the owner of the cycle shop.”
But it wasn’t ready, and not the next week, and not the next. For eight weeks I threw precious money away taking the train to Genoa and still no made-to-measure bike for me. The fellow just couldn’t be bothered making a frame for a skinny country kid who didn’t look as if he could pedal a fairy-cycle, let alone a racing bike. I used to cry bitterly as I went back home without the frame. On the ninth journey I took a frame home. But it wasn’t a ‘made to measure’. The chap just took one down off the rack. I was furious inside, but too shy to do anything about it.