Before I can get into the crazy adventure involving dashing around my town with a locked bike, I will provide a bit of necessary background information. Last Sunday, someone took my coat from the gym. This wouldn't have been a huge deal if my bike and apartment keys weren't in the pocket. But alas, they were. So, thankfully, one of the coordinators who works for my company came and saved me. We got me a spare key from the apartment office, a process which was relatively painless. The bike situation, however, proved to be a bit more complicated.
Many bikes in Japan, including mine, have locks attached to the back tire. When you lock it, it induces a sort of bike rigour mortis, preventing the back tire from moving and the kickstand from being lifted.
I live about a mile away from the gym, so the thought of toting a partially immobilised bike all the way there sounded painful to say the least. However, leaving it at the gym overnight was not possible either, so the coordinator and I hoisted it into the trunk of her car and drove it back to my apartment. I'm pretty sure whoever saw us thought we were pulling a grand-theft bicycle. Oh well.
I realised after just one day how much longer it takes to walk everywhere when you are used to biking. All of a sudden, journeys everywhere seemed like voyages to Mordor. So, I decided I needed to get the lock situation taken care of. Along with my coordinator, three others helped me make my bike rideable again, and if people in Japan hugged, they would have all gotten one from me for their amazing collective effort.
1) The Vice Principal at my school. Of course. He is my superman. A few days after the theft of my bike key, he asked how I was and I explained that I was a bit distressed. At that point I realised that the coat robber wouldn't be returning it.
When I told the VP what happened, he banged his fist on the desk and said, with the kind of conviction I would expect from a judge reading the verdict of a grisly murder case, "Marisa. This is not ok. Japan should be safe place. Japan must apologise!" And he told me that I must take the bike to the bike shop to get the lock cut off, and that this would cost about $10.
He said he would try to drive me when his schedule was clear, but we couldn't seem to find a convenient time for both of us so I said I would walk it to the bike shop, no big deal. He then reached into his desk and produced a nice, fancy bike lock and said "Marisa, I present you this. Then, no need buy new lock." Wow, I was speechless with gratitude. It also piqued my curiosity as to how he magically always has whatever I need in his desk.
He then informed me that next week he will take me to an Indian curry lunch as a further apology from Japan. Despite my assurance that I was not mad at Japan and such kindness was unnecessary, he insisted.
2) My new Japanese Grandfather. So, finally, I decided that enough was enough. I needed to just suck it up and walk my heavy bike to the shop. I will say that walking a half mile lugging a heavy bike with immobilised wheels is easily one of the most difficult things I have ever done. I paused every ten minutes or so to change my arm positions and take a breather. Once again, I am sure that everyone who saw me thought that I looked insane and that I was stealing a bike.
When I was about halfway to the shop, an elderly man approached me and asked me in Japanese if I was okay. He then began talking rapidly in Japanese and asking me questions and I just kept saying that I was okay because I didn't understand him. Eventually, he jaunted off ahead of me.
About fifteen minutes later, the bike shop was finally in sight. So was the same elderly man, who was rushing towards me again. He looked extremely worried, and informed me that the bike shop, my destination that seemed so within reach at last, was already closed. My heart sank. I tried to explain to him that I would still walk my bike to the shop and come back tomorrow, but he didn't understand a word. He was determined to help me, and refused to leave me stranded.
Finally, a metaphorical lightbulb appeared over his head. He pointed across the street at a bike parking lot beside an apartment building and I nodded in agreement- it looked like a nice place to leave a bike. So we decided to jaywalk my bike across the street. I tried to help him as he took the bike from me, and he insisted that he could carry it himself. So this little, 70-plus-year-old-man lugged my locked bike across the road, dodging cars, and we parked it among the other bikes. I thanked him profusely and asked him name, and he said simply "Ojiisan" ("Grandpa" in Japanese). He then told me to take care and walked off into the distance and out of my life.
3) The bike shop owner. The next morning, I rushed back to where Grandpa and I left my bike. There is was, safe and sound. I walked it over to the bike shop, where the owner got out a set of hedge-clippers that looked like they could sever the strongest metal in half. He clipped off the lock and I asked him in my terrible Japanese how much it would cost. He waved off the notion and insisted that it was "daijoubu" ("okay") and that he was happy to do it. I told him "I'm so happy!" in Japanese, thanked him profusely, and, FINALLY pedalled off to the station.
That's a happier ending than many Disney films, in my opinion.
Many bikes in Japan, including mine, have locks attached to the back tire. When you lock it, it induces a sort of bike rigour mortis, preventing the back tire from moving and the kickstand from being lifted.
 |
| The little round thing under the seat on the rear tire is the lock |
I live about a mile away from the gym, so the thought of toting a partially immobilised bike all the way there sounded painful to say the least. However, leaving it at the gym overnight was not possible either, so the coordinator and I hoisted it into the trunk of her car and drove it back to my apartment. I'm pretty sure whoever saw us thought we were pulling a grand-theft bicycle. Oh well.
I realised after just one day how much longer it takes to walk everywhere when you are used to biking. All of a sudden, journeys everywhere seemed like voyages to Mordor. So, I decided I needed to get the lock situation taken care of. Along with my coordinator, three others helped me make my bike rideable again, and if people in Japan hugged, they would have all gotten one from me for their amazing collective effort.
1) The Vice Principal at my school. Of course. He is my superman. A few days after the theft of my bike key, he asked how I was and I explained that I was a bit distressed. At that point I realised that the coat robber wouldn't be returning it.
When I told the VP what happened, he banged his fist on the desk and said, with the kind of conviction I would expect from a judge reading the verdict of a grisly murder case, "Marisa. This is not ok. Japan should be safe place. Japan must apologise!" And he told me that I must take the bike to the bike shop to get the lock cut off, and that this would cost about $10.
He said he would try to drive me when his schedule was clear, but we couldn't seem to find a convenient time for both of us so I said I would walk it to the bike shop, no big deal. He then reached into his desk and produced a nice, fancy bike lock and said "Marisa, I present you this. Then, no need buy new lock." Wow, I was speechless with gratitude. It also piqued my curiosity as to how he magically always has whatever I need in his desk.
He then informed me that next week he will take me to an Indian curry lunch as a further apology from Japan. Despite my assurance that I was not mad at Japan and such kindness was unnecessary, he insisted.
2) My new Japanese Grandfather. So, finally, I decided that enough was enough. I needed to just suck it up and walk my heavy bike to the shop. I will say that walking a half mile lugging a heavy bike with immobilised wheels is easily one of the most difficult things I have ever done. I paused every ten minutes or so to change my arm positions and take a breather. Once again, I am sure that everyone who saw me thought that I looked insane and that I was stealing a bike.
 |
| This is mine, I swear! |
About fifteen minutes later, the bike shop was finally in sight. So was the same elderly man, who was rushing towards me again. He looked extremely worried, and informed me that the bike shop, my destination that seemed so within reach at last, was already closed. My heart sank. I tried to explain to him that I would still walk my bike to the shop and come back tomorrow, but he didn't understand a word. He was determined to help me, and refused to leave me stranded.
Finally, a metaphorical lightbulb appeared over his head. He pointed across the street at a bike parking lot beside an apartment building and I nodded in agreement- it looked like a nice place to leave a bike. So we decided to jaywalk my bike across the street. I tried to help him as he took the bike from me, and he insisted that he could carry it himself. So this little, 70-plus-year-old-man lugged my locked bike across the road, dodging cars, and we parked it among the other bikes. I thanked him profusely and asked him name, and he said simply "Ojiisan" ("Grandpa" in Japanese). He then told me to take care and walked off into the distance and out of my life.
3) The bike shop owner. The next morning, I rushed back to where Grandpa and I left my bike. There is was, safe and sound. I walked it over to the bike shop, where the owner got out a set of hedge-clippers that looked like they could sever the strongest metal in half. He clipped off the lock and I asked him in my terrible Japanese how much it would cost. He waved off the notion and insisted that it was "daijoubu" ("okay") and that he was happy to do it. I told him "I'm so happy!" in Japanese, thanked him profusely, and, FINALLY pedalled off to the station.
That's a happier ending than many Disney films, in my opinion.
Great story, Marisa, even more so, because it was true! It's nice to hear about such generous people. I also think that a person toting a locked bike might be more common in Japan than we think. Glad you got your wheels back.
ReplyDeleteThanks Rick! It's sure nice to have the wheels back! Today, I am definitely getting along with Japan.
DeleteBy the way, the associated pictures were a lot of fun!
ReplyDelete