If other men are cars You are my bicycle. Eccentric individualist tweed jacket and tie. Some women might mock yesterday's Englishman I am enchanted.
Cars aren't always fast: traffic snarled, fume choked while bicycles slip past in nonchalant freedom. Your independent mind leaves lesser man baffled. I am impressed.
But like a bicycle our relationship's hard work. As I still struggle up hills I wonder if before long I'll leave you rusting while I look for a car. I am exhausted. Source: BBC- h2g2 / The Underguide / Poetry
