Were they really the good old days?

I used to bicycle to school when I was young and on the go.
And in Wintertime I mind it was not nice.
We kids would ride our bikes
Through slush, and often through the snow.
On surfaces made treacherous by ice.

My bike was put together with parts filched from ******* pit.
Parts garnered here and there and taken to my home.
I washed them first in kerosene, then soaked in oil each bit.
Once assembled, then the World was mine to roam.

Although it looked quite battered and it rattled every ride,
And the wheels, they wobbled, and it had a squeak.
That bike was mine, all mine, and if you classify by pride
I reckon RollsRoyce would not stand a chance, well, so's to speak.

But the brakes on that bike they never worked.
And its metal handlebars were bare.
And in Winter it was scary stuff,
Because of brakes, and ice on roads,
And never having gloves to wear.

At school (with bike stowed in racks) I would join the queue.
My runny nose and hurting ears,
Numbed hands and fingertips quite blue.
Shivering, cold before the classroom door,
Waiting for my turn at taps and running water,
And for my hands to thaw.