My Bike

It might have been my very first weekend in China when I decided to get my explore on by walking downtown. I had a map, but because streets on it were given a generous “width” in which to write their names, it was hard not to underestimate distances when looking at it. In any case, I didn’t think too hard about how long it would take or how hot it was. I had all day! And in fact, a big part of my search was to find a bike shop where I would pay less than `1000 kuai for a bike.

I don’t even remember most of the walk. I do recall seeing a big market, the Huaxia Materials port, and some guys sleeping on bamboo mats in the back of a pipe shop. I couldn’t believe I wasn’t finding any bike shops whatsoever. Finally, hot sweaty, dehydrated, right before a bridge that led into the city center, I found a man in a tiny shop selling bicycles. He was in a tank top and tan and eating lunch. He looked a little peeved that I had interrupted his meal. I pointed to a solid-looking black beast that was out front—he held up a crooked finger in silence. After some primitve discussion, I finally figured out that he wanted 90 yuan. I had no idea about the economy. For a minute I thought he meant 900, and I was considering it. Later, people told me that he ripped me off, and it may be true, but I still think it was a great deal. Three months into owning it, I figured, I had spent 1 yuan a day on it, not to mention all the taxi fares it had saved me left and right. I rode the bike into town, but at that point I was too delerious from fatigue and dehydration that I don’t remember much. Over the next weeks and months, though, I rode it everywhere—work, city center, “Suzhou,” Huishan, etc.

When I bought it, he pointed to the brand on the front of the bike and gave a solid thumbs-up. I learned later that this brand is Feng Huang, or Phoenix, a very famous brand. It’s basically the Raleigh of China—they just made a bunch of really tough bikes back in Communist times, and they’re all still kicking around today because of their longevity. The old Savers miracle.

I get made fun of a lot when I’m on the bike. The security guards at my building make revving and other motions with their hands when they see me, indicating, “You need to get a motorcycle! Get off that old man’s bike! Don’t you like cool stuff?”