A place to read, A place to recline, No rest for your arms, But one for your behind. What am I?

I have two wheels and a chain that sings, No motor hum, just muscle brings. Pedal strong through wind and hill, A faithful steed with iron will. No plug, no charge, just sweat and glee. Human-powered, wild and free.

For a while, this substance was the best thing around, Its name describes a time when its use was profound. But it’s since slipped down and lost its high place. Today you get it when third in a race.

A quill descends, then rises black, and leaves a trail, an inky track. I hold the dark yet never tell, a quiet, waiting, shadowed well.

I can have a strap and silver teeth. I hide your treasures underneath. I am the world you carry by your side.