Small fine line tattoo of a bicycle with yellow wheels and a brown frame on the upper arm of a woman in a white vest, with a pool behind her.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Yellow-wheeled bicycle on the upper arm

Fine line · Upper arm · Mixed · Photo

A small bicycle is drawn in thin brown lines with a saddle, handlebars and triangular frame. Two solid yellow discs form the wheels, which are the only areas of colour. The tattoo sits on the upper arm against plain skin, with long light brown hair and a blurred blue pool in the background.

Fine line Upper arm Bicycle Wheel Frame

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The bicycle had belonged to Mr Okonedo before it belonged to anyone, a black frame with a saddle gone soft as bread, and when the postman's daughter offered him ten pounds for it he said he would sell only if she could tell him why the wheels were yellow. She could not. Nobody in Hebden Row could. The rims had been painted the colour of custard the summer the tram line closed, and the paint had outlasted two owners and a flood.

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She asked at the chapel bazaar, where Mrs Fenwick sold jam and opinions. Mrs Fenwick said the wheels had been painted by a boy who lost a wager to the lamplighter, and then said the lamplighter had been her uncle and he had never once lost anything. The baker thought it was for the fog on the moor road, when the lamps gave out and a rider could vanish ten yards ahead. Nobody agreed, and everybody had an opinion about the saddle.

In the end she rode it out to the reservoir on a grey evening, the road wet and the hills gone into cloud. The wheels turned in the dusk, two small suns low on the tarmac, and a van behind her slowed and flashed its lights twice, as if to say it had seen her coming. She got to the water with her hands numb and her ten pounds still in her pocket.

When she came back, Mr Okonedo was waiting at the gate with the lamp lit. He took the coin, looked at the wheels for a long moment, and said the paint had never been meant to be pretty. It had been meant to be seen coming.