My grandfather once told me a story about how his brother had a bicycle, they were poor and the bicycle was something his brother had somehow gotten and it seemed special to him. He told me how they filled the tires with sawdust because they were not worthy of holding air. He told his brother one day that he was going to ride it to school (Pa only went through the 6th grade, so he was young) and school was not close by. His brother warned him but allowed him. He told me that riding that bike on those tires filled with sawdust almost beat him to death and upon getting home from school that day he told his brother he would never ride that bike again, I think I remember in the story that his brother laughed at him.
My grandpa told me a lot of stories, but that's the only bicycle story I can remember him telling me.