I once had an old BSA head-badged bicycle. It had “safety” brakes, pump pegs, and center pull brakes. The quill stem was simple and elegant and it shifted well with some low-end Campagnolo gear. I sold it for $150 to a friend/acquaintance of my Dad. It haunts me to think of it now. The bike rode lovely and had beautiful lugs under its dark blue metallic paint. I still recall Dad saying, “Are you sure?”
In hindsight I had no idea what I had there. It was actually a Claud Butler Classique with a shooting badge hammered on the head-tube.
Dad should have said, “Don’t sell it to this guy. He’s a creep who beats his children.”
Which is what the man turned out to be.