I fixed a bike today.
Not my bike.
And not something difficult to fix.
In fact it only took me about 30 seconds.
And seeing the astonishment come across the man's face let me know he'd
been unsuccessfully fussing at it for a while.
When I saw him he'd already given up and was walking the bike in the
general direction of the beach muster point at the general time that we
tend to be there with a bike that I immediately recognized as being not
cheap. Even though I didn't know him, I stopped and asked him if he
was having trouble.
My guess had been flat tire. Had I guessed right I'd've gone up to the
muster, grabbed the first person with a pump, and gone back. My
general mechanical ineptitude coupled with the fact that I'm rarely
more than a cab ride away from the bike shop has so far kept me from
adding repair stuff to my kit.
It was only a jumped chain.
"It's nothing. Don't worry. And my son is up ahead, when I get there,
he'll fix it."
As he said this I was already off my bike and lifting it up over the
curb and back down into the bike road. Giving the bike the once over I
noticed it was a mountain bike with aero bars (I think that is the
right name, the extra set of bars that stick out over the wheel) and an
odometer mount without an odometer.
It was a very familiar looking bike.
And it wasn't his.
He wasn't the sort to have a mountain bike with aero bars. More the
work bike type but with an undefineable edge of noveau middle class.
Someone who had a hard life a long time ago but hasn't had a hard life
for a long time now. And although the bike obviously wasn't his, he
didn't look like a thief either.
Fearless Leader's mountain bike.
Fearless Leader's dad.
I fixed a bike belonging to the undisputed head of the group. And
saved an old man from having to walk up to the beach and tell his son's
friends (though from my clothing and bike he must have guessed I was
one of his son's friends) that he'd broken his son's expensive mountain
bike. The very non-Chinese very impulsive hug I got was one that came
out of pure gratitude.
Given the number of times other people have subtly adjusted my bike for
me, and the number of times I'm back at the shop watching in awe as the
mechanics do something so obviously simple for them and so totally
impossible for me it was very nice to be on the other side of the
equation for once.
Of all the people whose bikes could have been borrowed and in need of
repair as I was riding by, it was one of the ubers. The man who
unclips one foot from his road bike, puts his leg up on the saddle, and
pedals along one-legged, still faster than me, while going uphill, and
maintaining a conversation (of which my end is mostly grunts and
pants). I'm in awe of him. And I fixed his bike.
Not that his dad is ever likely to admit to having first broke the bike
and second having needed a girl to fix it for him. But I'll know.
-M