Explore "The Believing Years" by Edmund Lester Pearson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
After all my waiting and watching I never saw the ship that fetched my velocipede. It came -- during the night, I fancy -- shortly after we got home from the beach.
But I had the velocipede, -- that was the main thing. It was built mostly of wood, and painted red. On it, I spent four happy days, riding up and down the sidewalks of Oak Street.