I will tell you a story which i called –bikes. Actually I don’t remember my first bike but I will try to recreate my memories about it. As I remember it was green collored with pink wings. It was present from my good neighbour friend .She presented that bike to me because she bought new one and that old one she didn’t want to through away. Now I remember clearly how I was riding with that bike and my mother was holding me behind it. The first time was enough hard because I could not to concentrate me attention but day after day I was learning to do it well and finally I learnt. Ride bicycle was very funny . I remember when my friends bought bikes too then we were riding through the all city until midnight, without any lights or helmets . I know that it was dangerous, but I was cool. And every day the same. That bike was my casuality. I remember that once we were riding and we were in very good mood , we were screaming something like cannibals or crazy people. Next time we were screaming like that – Hey young lady Danguole which lives in Salomeja 51, where are you going? I don’t ride bike so often as I used to. Maybe the reason is that I don’t have so much time. But I have extra case that I am riding when my best friend comes to me then we take our ancient grandmothers bikes and after that we are going to scare people. I can describe how looks my bike like. It is yellow, with big wheels, extra seat on the back and with breaks which don’t work. My mum calls that bike – The masculine bike. It looks really terrible. And when I am cycling with that beauty ( rasyti kabutese) through the city that moments are very funny when people pay attention on you because you made them laugh of your bike appearance … So… That was the story about two bikes which weren’t my own, but with them I was riding mostly.