Eliana's bike doesn't beat mine, although it's a contender.  
It looks like a French cemetery decorated for All Soul's, all chrysanthemum orange, crossed with primary school mother's day presents of tricolore woolen pompoms.

My bike has the string of wooden balls and bells that hung over my children's crib, plaited twine with shells from the beaches of the Atlantic coast and airplane parts given to me by my pupils that I've hung to the handlebars with red ribbons.  It also has a flat back tyre which is my bike's equivalent of Tennis Elbow and seems to never go away.